


hold on for one more day

by merrymegtargaryen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Do not repost, F/M, Gen, Minor Jeyne Poole/Harrold Hardyng, Minor Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen, Multi, Other, Past Jeyne Poole/Ramsay Bolton, bisexual disaster jeyne poole, bisexual disaster theon greyjoy, seven years in the making, the bridesmaids au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25252276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymegtargaryen/pseuds/merrymegtargaryen
Summary: Sansa is getting married. Jeyne could be handling it better.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Jeyne Poole
Comments: 53
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not exaggerating when I say this fic has been seven years in the making. I came up with this idea in 2013 and kept meaning to write it and never quite getting around to it. I started for real a year ago, kept abandoning and coming back to it, and finally finished it a month or so ago. I wrote the brunt of this when I was at a very low point in my life; I identified a little too well with Jeyne, and I think that's why it was so hard for me to write the ending, because in the end, everything's okay. But I am happy to say that things are okay for me now, and I feel like that was the impetus I needed to give Jeyne a happy ending. 
> 
> This fic will be hot garbage to most of you. I could not be more aware of this. You do not have to remind me. If you like it, great! If you don't, please move on. I promise we will all be happier for it. 
> 
> Enjoy??

Jeyne wakes up early. Not that she was really sleeping; she can’t rest easy in this place. Harry’s room is painfully sterile, taking minimalism to the extreme. She feels like she doesn’t belong here. She imagines the models he usually brings home, imagines how they never sweat or fart or have embarrassing bodies. She’s scared to get in his bed sometimes because the sheets are  _ so _ white that she fears they’ll get stained from her simply...existing.

Harry is still asleep, still ungodly hot. She’s probably a mess, all mussed hair and smudged eyeliner and morning breath. She slides from the bed, careful not to wake him, and tiptoes into the bathroom. She steals some of his mouthwash and fixes her hair and makeup, going for a “natural” look. As satisfied as she’ll ever be, she tiptoes back into the room and eases into bed, arranging herself just so. 

Harry doesn’t immediately wake up, so she clears her throat, giving him a small jostle. He still doesn’t wake up, so she jostles him a little harder. 

“Whuh?” he mumbles, eyes flying open. 

“Hmm?” She lets her eyes flutter open, pretending she’s only just awoken. “Oh, hello,” she says in what she hopes is a sultry voice. 

Harry’s lips quirk into a smile. “Hello.” He scoots closer to her, kissing her. “Why do you taste so minty?”

“Haha, what?” she laughs nervously. 

He pulls back. “You slept over.”

She offers another sultry smile. “I did.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

She freezes. Right. Of course. She’d known even last night that he doesn’t like for her to sleep over. He doesn’t like for anyone to sleep over, he’s told her. He sleeps best alone. Some desperate part of her had thought that maybe if she’d stayed the night, he’d realize how perfect she was and want to date for real and not just fuck whenever they were bored.

_ Yeah, right. _

“Yeah, um, sorry,” she mumbles. “I...forgot.”

“I like hanging out with you,” he adds quickly.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” she agrees, nodding her head. 

“But I just think...you know...why ruin a good thing?”

“Yeah, totally, of course,” she chirps. “Like, it’s such a good...we get each other, you know, like we don’t have to complicate things with like, labels or anything.”

“Yeah.” He gives her a strained smile. “Uh, this is so awkward, because I want you to leave but I don’t know how to say it without sounding like a dick.”

Jeyne’s smile is pasted so hard on her face that it hurts. “Oh, yeah, no worries, just like...just kick me out whenever.”

He looks at her expectantly.

“Right.” She gets up, collecting her clothes from the floor. Harry goes back to sleep as she changes, not even bothering to say goodbye. That’s okay. He doesn’t have to say goodbye, right? They’re not, like,  _ dating _ or anything. And they see each other all the time so it’s not. It’s. It’s fine. It’s whatever. 

She slips out of the house, tugging last night’s clothes into place. She’d gone for a form-fitting, sexy outfit, and it had worked last night...but in the early light of day, it feels stupid. She feels even stupider when she gets to the gate and realizes there’s no way to open it. She’ll have to climb it.

_ You can do this, Poole. _

Taking a deep breath, she tosses her heels over the gate and tugs her skirt high up her thighs to give her more mobility. She uses the slots as foot and handholds, swinging her legs over the top and dropping down. Her skirt is well around her hips now, exposing her bright pink thong to a group of neighborhood children selling lemonade.

Jeyne clears her throat, tugs her skirt into place, and collects her heels. “Staring is rude,” she tells them before marching away.

_ Just another day in the life. _

.

Her phone is dead by the time she makes it home; she plugs it in while she showers and changes into sweats. Her roommates are still asleep, which doesn’t surprise her--part of the reason she’d been so desperate to get out of the house last night was because they had people over, and she’s sure they all stayed up late. The living room is a mess, but Jeyne can hardly complain; they may be slobs, but they can pay rent and utilities on time. She can’t exactly say the same for herself.

After putting on a pot of coffee, she checks her phone and sees a text from Sansa.

_ Brunch??? _

She smiles. 

_ Bitch you know it. Glass Gardens in thirty? _

_ Bitch!!!!  _

.

Jeyne rolls up to her and Sansa’s favorite brunch place in what she lovingly refers to as athleisure wear. She wears it a little too much, but to be fair, it’s  _ so _ comfortable. And frankly, it makes her ass look amazing.

After ordering a heaping pile of crepes and partaking in the bottomless mimosas, the two catch up with what’s been going on in their lives. 

“I feel like I never see you anymore,” Jeyne laments.

“I know,” Sansa says guiltily. “I’ve been spending a lot of time in King’s Landing.”

“With Dany,” Jeyne teases, drawing out the syllables.

“She hates that nickname and you know it.”

“I know, I just think it’s funny.” She takes a bite of her crepe--hazelnut spread with plump raspberries. “How are things with Daenerys?”

“Fine. Good.” Sansa doesn’t sound enthused.

“Really?”

“She’s been kind of weird lately,” Sansa admits. “I think it’s a work thing, but I’m just...I don’t know. I’m worried maybe she’s tired of commuting between cities or...something.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jeyne assures her. “In true sapphic fashion, you two are obsessed with talking out every micro detail, so I’m sure if something was up, she’d tell you.”

“Yeah, true.” Sansa rests her chin in her hand. “What about you?”

Jeyne shrugs. She hates when people ask how she’s doing, because she can either lie and say she’s doing well or be honest about how rough things have been. But she doesn’t have to lie to Sansa. Her friend knows, and she’s been there for her every step of the way. Just because she’s been spending more time in King’s Landing with Daenerys doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about Jeyne anymore. 

“I’ve been better,” she allows. “But I’ve also been worse.”

Sansa nods, sipping her mimosa. “That’s fair.” She sets down her glass, eyeing Jeyne. “You haven’t been seeing Harry again, have you?”

Jeyne becomes intent on her crepe. 

“Jeyne,” Sansa says accusingly.

“We uh. Hung out. For a bit. Last night,” she says in what she hopes is a nonchalant voice.

“You totally shagged him, didn’t you?”

Jeyne doesn’t answer.

“Jeyne!”

“We had...an adult sleepover,” Jeyne mumbles. 

Sansa makes a disgusted noise.

“What?! We’re not dating, it’s just sex,” Jeyne insists. 

“Yeah, but he’s horrible to you, and you always feel awful afterward,” Sansa points out. 

“I do not,” Jeyne lies.

“Yes you do! He constantly negs you and makes you feel like shit and for some reason you just...accept it.” 

“Yeah, well, not all of us are former models who snagged successful philanthropists.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “You have  _ got _ to stop putting yourself down. You’re a fucking catch! You’re super hot, you know how to bake literally every pastry known to man, you’re wicked funny, and you once got a five star review on your blowjob technique.”

Jeyne buries her face in her hands. 

“Seriously! Jeyne, you’re amazing, and if I wasn’t so in love with Daenerys, I’d hit that.”

“You’ve already hit this.”

“You know what I mean.”

Sansa’s right, she knows. She needs to have more confidence in herself and stop putting herself down all the time. It’s just…no one’s exactly knocking down her door to get to her, and Harry’s so hot and rich and if he pays attention to her, even if it’s just once in a while for sex...well, it makes her feel better. She was never beautiful like Sansa, never able to attract a string of suitors. She has to take what she can get.

Everything had been great for a while. She’d followed her dream and opened a bakery with her boyfriend. Her cream puffs were praised in every local publication, she got hundreds of catering requests, and best of all, she got regulars. Her relationship was great, the sex was great, she felt like they were going to get married and she’d have everything she ever wanted.

But then the recession happened and business tanked. No one could justify spending money on her pastries, and she didn’t blame them. She offered coupons and promotions to drum in more business, but no one bit. Not enough to make a difference, anyway. She borrowed money from the bank and even that didn’t help. She fought as hard as she could, but it was a losing battle. The bakery wasn’t meant to be.

Ramsay saw the warning signs early on. He’d been supportive at first, but once it became clear they were going out of business, he broke up with Jeyne and pulled out. She was left to pick up the pieces on her own. She’s still in debt, and likely will be for a long time. Her dad had helped where he could, but he’s retired, and he could only offer so much assistance. She moved in with two guys she barely knew, determined to keep at least some of her dignity intact by living on her own, and got a shitty job selling jewelry downtown. 

“It’s okay if you need help,” her father and Sansa keep telling her.

“I’m fine,” she always lies. “It’s just a rough patch, but it’ll get better.”

She only wishes she could believe that.

.

Friday is a horrible day for three reasons.

The first is because Jeyne gets yelled at at work. Well, okay, not  _ yelled _ at, but she does get scolded for not selling lifelong happiness. 

“You don’t have a ‘love is eternal’ face!” Petyr chides. “Your face is five years at best!”

Jeyne doesn’t know how to tell him that she’s never had a relationship lasting longer than a year.

The second reason it’s horrible is because it’s the last day of the month and her paycheck is...not great. Theoretically, yes, she could pay rent, but she also owes the bank, and she’s missed a couple payments already. When Hot Pie confronts her in his polite but firm way, she awkwardly laughs and mumbles before fleeing to her room and wondering if it’s morally okay to make a GoFundMe to pay rent.

The third reason is because she has dinner with Sansa and Daenerys.

That in and of itself isn’t bad. She really does like Daenerys, she just hasn’t spent a lot of time with her. They live in two different cities and run in very different circles. Jeyne works retail and can barely afford living expenses. Daenerys has thousands of dollars to her name and chairs a human rights organization. All they have in common is Sansa.

Jeyne and Sansa grew up together, both in Winterfell and here in King’s Landing. Sansa’s dad was good friends with Robert Baratheon, and he’d begged Ned Stark to run his reelection campaign. Ned had agreed and had convinced Jeyne’s father to be his assistant. It was a good opportunity for the girls, who attended one of the nicest public schools in the country and made connections. Even when the election was over, there were more opportunities for their fathers, so they’d stayed. Sansa became a teen model and Jeyne started working at a quirky cafe. When the modeling industry became overwhelming, Jeyne encouraged her friend to go to school for fashion design while Sansa encouraged her to apply for culinary school. While Jeyne was experimenting with pastries, Sansa was building outfits. Jeyne went to work in a Michelin star restaurant; Sansa started her own fashion line. Jeyne fell in love with her coworker, Ramsay. Sansa designed a Met gown for Daenerys Targaryen. Jeyne opened a bakery with Ramsay’s support. Sansa learned that the only thing she liked better than dressing Daenerys was undressing her. And while Sansa and Daenerys were gracing red carpets and falling in love, Jeyne’s entire life went up in flames.

She’s in a good mood now, though. She’s been looking forward to this all week, getting dinner and drinks with her best friend and her best friend’s girlfriend. Not having to worry about her stupid “love is eternal” face or her rent check. Sansa and Daenerys will treat her to dinner, as they always do, and after enough drinks, she’ll forget that she has any worries at all.

Or so she thinks.

The minute Daenerys’s car picks her up, she knows something is off. Sansa and Daenerys keep exchanging looks,  _ weird _ looks, and they always seem taken off guard when Jeyne addresses them. It isn’t until they get to the restaurant, having ordered their food and gotten a bottle of champagne, that Jeyne realizes what’s going on.

“A toast,” Daenerys declares, raising her champagne flute. “To my fiancee.”

Jeyne’s eyes take in the engagement rings for the first time, the silver bands encrusted with diamonds. She sits, frozen, until Sansa asks if she’s okay.

“I’m...wow. Holy shit.” Jeyne lets out a nervous laugh. “Wow, oh my god you’re...wow. No shit.”

“Are you okay?” Sansa asks again.

“Of course I am! I’m just...oh my god, San!” Jeyne gets up, hugging her friend. Sansa squeezes her back, beaming. She and Daenerys chatter for a long time, telling Jeyne the story of how Daenerys had proposed, and it’s all Jeyne can do to smile and nod.

Sansa’s getting married.

_ What the fuck? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was honestly not expecting anyone to read this, so hi and welcome and thank you for leaving nice comments!! I hope you enjoy this chapter--it's a doozy lol.

Theon’s text comes while she’s browsing jobs on Indeed. 

**_SANSA AND DAENERYS ARE ENGAGED???_ **

Jeyne would literally rather throw up than deal with this now.

It isn’t that she isn’t happy for Sansa, because  _ of course _ she is. Of course, of course. Sansa is her best friend and Daenerys is a wonderful woman and they deserve to be happy together forever.

It’s just that. Well. It would be nice if Sansa’s life wasn’t such a fairytale for once. While Jeyne has been googling last-ditch efforts to feed herself, Sansa’s living the dream. And it isn’t that she resents her friend, it’s only…

_ Why does bad stuff only happen to me? _

Sansa has everything. Perfect family, perfect fiancee, perfect job, perfect apartment. The two grew up together, had the exact same backgrounds and experience and opportunities. But Sansa’s been famous since she was thirteen for dating teen pop sensation Joffrey Baratheon and has never wanted for anything. Jeyne is considering selling her underwear for a measly $15.

She picks up the phone. 

_ I know, right? _

**_That’s crazy. I feel like they’ve barely been together._ **

_ Yeah, well, lesbians bring a U-Haul to the second date, so this is actually considered a long courtship. _

**_Why do I know so many queer women._ **

She smiles. In addition to Sansa, his foster sister, Theon’s biological sister is bi. Jeyne is bi, too, and though Arya insists she doesn’t like labels, no straight woman likes Sleater Kinney as much as Arya does. 

_ You’re an honorary lesbian.  _

**_Wow, I’m so flattered. Is it my affinity for plaid and girl grunge bands?_ **

_ You were born a lesbian, that’s why you like plaid and girl grunge bands. _ Impulsively, she adds,  _ What are you up to tonight? Fancy a beer? _

**_Always._ **

.

Jeyne and Theon are friends by association. Ned and Catelyn took in Theon when he was nine, raising him as one of their own, and Jeyne was always hanging around with Sansa. She had a crush on him and Robb growing up, much to Sansa’s constant irritation. Over the years, though, that silly crush had melded into friendship. Now that they’re all adults, Jeyne genuinely enjoys hanging out with Theon, and she likes to think he enjoys hanging out with her too. 

He’s sitting at the bar when she gets there, faded grey shirt, even more faded jeans, and the leather wristband that hides one of his more regrettable tattoos. He’s got a beer waiting for her, and she downs it quickly.

“You must be excited,” he offers when they order a second round. “She asked you to be her maid of honor, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, intent on her beer. “It’ll be...great. Amazing, even.”

“Oh fuck,” he says with a grin. “You hate this.”

“No I don’t!” she insists with a little too much vehemence. “I’m really happy for Sansa!”

“But.”

“But,” she allows. “I don’t know...I can’t even keep my own life together, I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle this entire wedding.”

“Who says you’re handling it?”

“That’s what maids of honor  _ do _ ,” she tells him, catching her beer as the bartender slides it to her. “I have to plan the bridal shower, the bachelorette party, the dress fittings, I have to be in charge of all the other bridesmaids, and they’re probably all going to be Sansa’s model friends so you  _ know _ they’re going to be divas.”

“Arya will probably be there,” he points out. “And other Jeyne, so that shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Well, true,” she concedes. “But, still.”

“Weddings are mad,” he offers helpfully. “You know, back in the day, you just wore your nicest outfit and said some words in front of whatever god you believed in and that was that. Now you have to like, go permanently in debt and have an over the top wedding just to piss off your friends.”

“I mean, I seriously doubt Sansa and Daenerys are going to do that,” she points out. “They’re not...crazy. And over the top weddings seem to be a straight people thing.”

“That’s true.” He touches Jeyne’s shoulder. “Well, if you need moral support in the form of alcohol, I’m here for you.”

“Cheers to that.”

.

When everyone has been informed of the engagement and when a date is tentatively set in place, Ned and Catelyn Stark throw an engagement party for their daughter and her fiancee. The party will be in King’s Landing, which is the most central location for the different guests. 

“I’ve assembled my bridal party,” Sansa tells Jeyne when they go for a run that week. 

“Assembled them? That makes it sound like we’re the Avengers or something.”

“And here I thought it sounded like putting together a table from IKEA.”

“Attach the hurgengloot to the fickenschnackel and you’ll have a bridal party in no time.”

“Your Swedish is terrible.” Sansa stops, resting her foot on a bench to tighten her shoelaces. Jeyne stops too, hands at her waist as she bends.

“So who else is a bridesmaid?”

“Arya, of course. And other Jeyne. My friend Ros, she’s another model. Myrcella Baratheon.” Despite Sansa having dated Joffrey over ten years ago and them having a nasty breakup that was heavily publicized, Sansa remained on good terms with his little sister. “Oh, and Margaery, of course.”

“Margaery?” Jeyne’s never heard of Margaery, and doesn’t know why it’s a given that she’s part of the bridal party.

“Yeah, haven’t I mentioned her? She’s an actress, she dated Joffrey after me.”

“Oh, gross.”

“She’s actually really cool,” Sansa defends. “We met up a few months ago at this awards show and got to talking and it was just...it was really cool. At first we just talked about Joffrey, and then it was being a teenager in the public sphere, and then it was just about being a woman in the industry...I don’t know, we talked for hours.”

“Uh. Sounds like maybe you should marry her instead of Daenerys.”

Sansa laughs, getting ready to start running again. “Maybe. You’ll see what I mean when you meet her. Ready?”

“I guess.”

.

On the morning of the party, Jeyne drives over to her dad’s house to pick him up. Despite having lived and worked in King’s Landing for years, the prospect of driving into the city now daunts him. 

She’s just as happy for the company; truthfully, she’s a little nervous, though she can’t put her finger quite on why. Maybe it’s because she knows she isn’t going to be like most of the guests. Sansa and Daenerys have a glittering circle of friends, models and millionaires, and Jeyne is. Well. She couldn’t even keep a bakery afloat.

Vayon seems distracted when she walks inside; he’s still wearing a t-shirt and sweats and puts on a kettle for tea.

“Dad, we don’t have a lot of time,” she reminds him. “It’s a long drive, and I’m the maid of honor, so I need to be there for most of the party.”

“Oh, I forgot,” he says vaguely, “I can’t go.”

Her mouth falls open in surprise.

“What?!”

“Well, I signed up to speak at AA, I completely forgot, and I can’t just back out.”

“Dad, yes you can! You’re not even an alcoholic!”

“Well, only because I’ve never had a drink!”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “What am I supposed to tell the Starks?”

“You can tell them the truth.”

“Dad, it’s Alcoholics  _ Anonymous _ ; even if you were an alcoholic, which, by the way, you’re  _ not _ , you shouldn’t tell people that! You keep it anonymous!”

“Oh, fine,” he says, waving a careless hand. “Just make up an excuse.” 

“Great, I’ll just go by myself then,” she says, rather more irritated than she means to sound.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me about being myself! I do everything by myself, now that your mother’s left me for that gigolo…”

“Okay, well, that was twelve years ago, so…”

“I just don’t understand why she would leave me for a younger man with a  _ neck tattoo. _ ”

Jeyne can absolutely understand why, considering said younger man is a pilates instructor and has the self assurance only a well-hung man can. But she isn’t about to say that to her father.

“Right, well, I’ve got to go.”

“Tell Ned and Cat I said hello,” he calls as she heads out the door. “And congratulate Sansa for me!”

This puts Jeyne in a bad mood, and by the time she pulls up to the hotel, she’s ready to just get this party over with. Luckily, the sight of so many familiar faces puts her at ease. Sansa and Daenerys both welcome her enthusiastically, hugging her and gushing about how excited they are she’s agreed to be Sansa’s maid of honor. Ned and Cat are happy to see her, and though disappointed Vayon didn’t come, their lips twitch in amusement when Jeyne admits he’s speaking at an AA meeting; they’ve known him long enough to understand his quirks. 

The Stark children are equally happy to see Jeyne; Bran, who’s in grad school, and Rickon, who’s in college, have come down just for the party, and Jeyne spends a while catching up with them. She’s even happy to see their cousin Jon, despite his usual solemnity. Theon’s there too, chatting with his sister; he raises a champagne flute at Jeyne, who gives him a small salute in return. 

Robb and his wife Jeyne join them after a few minutes. 

“I feel like I never see you anymore,” Jeyne Poole says to Jeyne Westerling. “How are you?”

“I’m exhausted,” Westerling answers bluntly. “Between pulling all-nighters at the ER to making all these public appearances with Robb to raising my three boys…” She glances around to make sure Sansa and Poole are the only two listening to her. “They’re driving me nuts. They smell, they bite, they say things that are horrible.” She lowers her voice. “And there is semen... _ everywhere. _ The other day, I cracked a blanket in half. Do you get where I’m going with this? I cracked it  _ in half. _ ” 

Poole, who doesn’t like semen even when it’s coming from a grown man whose baby shower she  _ didn’t _ attend, tries not to gag. 

“Love, come tell my parents what Eddie was saying the other day,” Robb calls, and Westerling rolls her eyes before pasting a smile on her face and rejoining her husband. 

The way clear, Sansa grabs Poole’s hand. “Come on, let’s go say hi to the other bridesmaids.”

They find Ros surrounded by a group of admiring men; she promptly abandons them when she sees Sansa and Jeyne. 

“Gods, they’re boring,” Ros huffs. “Jeyne, how are you!”

Jeyne hugs the other woman, smiling. She always liked Ros. Though the redhead is ten years older than her and far more successful, she always treats Jeyne like an equal. She’d helped Sansa learn the ropes in her early days of modelling, being a model herself. Hers is something of a rags to riches story; Ros started off as a cam model before breaking onto the runway, and now she owns and operates her own modeling agency, which collaborates frequently with Sansa’s line. 

“I’m okay,” Jeyne says honestly. 

“Can you believe our Sansa is getting married?”

“No,” Jeyne says with the same honesty. “I’m...speechless, really.”  _ You have no idea how much. _ “So, what’s new with you?”

“Eh, nothing really. Business as usual. Theon’s looking fine tonight, don’t you think?”

This, for some reason, raises Jeyne’s hackles. “I don’t know, is he?”

“He’s my brother,” Sansa groans. “I don’t want to talk about what he looks like.”

“He looks like a snack, is what he looks like,” Ros says, eyeing him appreciatively. It’s no secret that she and Theon used to hook up in her model days, but from what Jeyne understands, that ended a few years ago.

“There are better and classier h’ors deouvres on the tables,” Sansa says sternly. “I have to go introduce Jeyne to some people, see you.” She leaves, taking Jeyne with her. “Gods, why does anyone want to hook up with Theon? He’s a human disaster.”

“Yeah,” Jeyne says, but her heart isn’t really in it. Theon’s a great guy, in her personal opinion. Not a human disaster.

Okay, perhaps he was once a human disaster, like when he tried to reconnect with his biological father who turned out to be a monster douche, or when he was dating that guy who completely transformed him. But he’s fine now. But also, does Ros really need to hook up with him again? Can’t she just summon a man whose job is to satiate her and leave Theon alone?

“Oh look, there’s Myrcella.”

Myrcella is standing by one of the food tables with a man who Jeyne assumes from his body language is her husband. Still feeling effusive from catching up with the Starks, Jeyne exclaims, “Is that Myrcella Baratheon I see?!”

Myrcella looks up and offers Jeyne an awkward smile. “Kind of! It’s Myrcella Martell now, actually.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Jeyne apologizes, while privately thinking that Myrcella Martell is a weird name. 

“It’s okay. It’s still very new,” Myrcella assures her, dimpling up at her husband. They nuzzle noses until Jeyne thinks she’s going to be physically ill.

“So, you’re a bridesmaid too?” she asks loudly, jolting the couple apart. 

“Yep!” Myrcella says sweetly. “It’s gonna be so much fun!” Her eyes flicker past Jeyne. “Is this your husband?”

Jeyne glances behind her, seeing a man she’s never met before who is standing uncomfortably close. 

“Oh, um...no,” she says awkwardly, glancing between Myrcella and the stranger. “I don’t...I don’t know him.”

“Do you want to take a walk later?” he asks.

“Oh, um, no.” She turns around, eyes wide as she wonders what the fuck is happening.

“Where is your husband?” Myrcella asks.

“Myrcella,” Sansa says through gritted teeth, shaking her head.

“Oh, I mean, your wife?”

“ _ Myrcella. _ ”

“It’s okay,” Jeyne says. “I don’t have anyone, I’m, you know, single and ready to...mingle.”

“Oh, gosh, that’s so awkward! I mean,  _ I’m _ so awkward!” Myrcella corrects. “Sorry, let’s start over! This is my husband, Trystane, you don’t have a husband…” She winces. “...sorry.”

“Okay, well, we’ve got to run,” Sansa says, grabbing Jeyne’s hand and pulling her away. “I’m so sorry,” she mutters. “She’s, um…”

“Painfully straight?”

“Painfully straight and still in that newlywed phase.”

“Who the fuck was that guy? Was he sniffing my hair or something?”

“I mean...do you want me to answer that honestly?”

“Sansa, why are there hair-sniffers at your engagement party?”

“Daenerys has some weird friends,” Sansa allows. “I mean, her best friend is this older guy who is  _ absolutely _ in love with her and she  _ knows _ it but she insists they work as friends. He’s her best man, did you know that? Fucking ridiculous. Oh good, it’s Arya.”

Arya is scowling at her phone, but she looks up when Sansa and Jeyne approach her. 

“Everything okay?”

“Fine, just work.” She puts away her phone. “How’s life with Lommy and Hot Pie?”

“Oh...fine,” Jeyne says vaguely. “Thanks for setting that up.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“I’ve gotta go to the loo, I’ll be right back,” Sansa promises, slipping away.

Jeyne turns back to Arya. “How are you? You went on a cruise recently, didn’t you?”

“Fell off,” Arya says without emotion. 

Jeyne stares at her. “You...fell off? The...cruise ship?”

“Yeah. Just…” Arya makes a motion with her hand. “Pinballed down, hit a lot of railings.”

“Holy shit, are you okay?!” This is news to Jeyne, who, admittedly, never got on quite well with Arya to begin with. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, a dolphin saved me.”

“A dolphin  _ saved _ you?”

“Yeah. It looked right in my goddamn eyes and said, ‘I’m saving you, Arya.’ Not with its mouth...I assume telepathically.” Arya’s eyes flit to someone behind Jeyne. “Is this your bloke?”

“What...no?” Jeyne turns around to see a very tall man with a sour expression listening in on their conversation. “I don’t know him. Goodbye, sir.”

The man’s expression grows even more sour as he wanders away.

“Honestly, I’m glad he’s single,” Arya murmurs. “‘Cause I’m gonna climb that like a tree.”

Thankfully, Jeyne is spared much more of Arya’s scintillating conversation by Sansa, who finally reemerges from the bathroom and steers Jeyne away.

“Gods, I’m sorry; she’s been so weird ever since she got back from her trip.”

“You didn’t tell me she  _ fell off the ship. _ ”

“Did I not? Well, she did, and she insists a dolphin saved her.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I believe she was high out of her mind when she fell. Oh, good, you get to meet Margaery. Margaery! Come here!”

A woman with a cascade of honey brown curls turns around, her tailored blue gown (not a dress, a  _ gown _ ) turning with her. She honestly looks like a high end fashion advertisement, and knowing Sansa’s friend group, she may very well be. Beaming, the woman named Margaery glides over to greet them. 

Margaery is gorgeous, intimidatingly so. Jeyne feels small and ugly compared to the tall goddess standing before her. 

“Margaery, this is Jeyne!” Sansa announces excitedly. 

“Oh my gods, it’s such an honor to meet Sansa’s childhood friend!” Margaery coos in a way that  _ immediately _ prickles. Jeyne forces a smile, allowing Margaery to sweep her into a half-hug with air kisses. “And the maid of honor! You know, Sansa has talked about you nonstop!”

_ Funny,  _ Jeyne thinks,  _ she hasn’t mentioned you at all until this week. _

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she manages. 

Sansa and Margaery chat for a few more minutes, and it’s like Jeyne is watching them from underwater. She can see their lips moving and hear a faint sound coming from their mouths, but it might as well be bubbles for all she can hear. Who is this woman with whom Sansa seems so comfortable?  _ Why _ does she seem so comfortable? When the fuck did Margaery swoop in and steal her best friend? 

At last, Margaery takes her leave, and like a plug has been pulled, Jeyne can hear again. 

“Lovely to meet you, Jeyne.”

“And you,” Jeyne stutters as Margaery sweeps away. 

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Sansa coos.

Jeyne doesn’t know what to say. 

.

When most of the party has assembled, everyone gathers around the stage so that Sansa and Daenerys can get up and say a few words to welcome everyone to their party and thank Ned and Catelyn for throwing it. Daenerys’s man of honor, Jorah, gets up to say a few words also, and, seeing that this is the proper thing to do, Jeyne also gets up when he’s finished.

“Wow, that was really nice. Really heartfelt. Sort of makes my speech look stupid,” she jokes when she takes the mic from Jorah. A few chuckles go up, but only a few. She clears her throat and focuses on Sansa. “Um, truthfully, I’m not very good at speeches, but I just wanted to say that...I’m so happy right now. I’ve known Sansa for over twenty years, I’ve watched her grow into the...amazing woman she is now. I remember when we used to plan weddings for our dolls, and now it’s happening for real.”

Sansa’s smile is wide, her eyes a little wet. Jeyne feels warm, and she wishes she was close enough to hug her friend. 

“Daenerys, you make Sansa happier than anyone—though considering she used to date Joffrey Baratheon, I think we can all agree the bar was pretty low.” 

Everyone laughs, no one harder than Sansa and Daenerys. Smiling, Jeyne continues, “But seriously, you two are going to make the most amazing wives, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all just so happy to be a part of this.”

The crowd applauds in agreement. Jeyne puts away the mic and walks down the steps. She’s surprised when Margaery sweeps past her, plucking the mic from its stand. 

“Thank you, Jeyne, that was so touching. You know, speaking of Joffrey, I  _ also _ used to date him.”

Jeyne stares. The  _ fuck _ ?

“I know, I know! It was a mistake, is all I can say.” Margaery smiles with a blinding brilliance. “But if it wasn’t for Joffrey, I might never have met Sansa. I mean, imagine it. The worst boyfriend I’ve ever had bringing me to the best friend I have ever had or will ever have.”

Jeyne’s hands clench. That  _ bitch _ . 

“And I’m just...I’m so honored to be here tonight, celebrating her engagement to the most wonderful fiancée a woman could ask for.” Margaery touches her eyes, the small thickening in her voice indicating tears. Jeyne, who can see right through the act, rolls her eyes...but people in the crowd murmur in sympathy. 

“Anyway, thank you so much for coming, and dessert wine is out!” Just as Margaery starts to return the microphone to its stand, Jeyne is seized by the mad desire to get back on the stage and take it. 

“Just one more thing,” she says before the applause really picks up. She flashes a smile at a confused Margaery, who gets off the stage anyway. Triumphant, Jeyne turns back to the crowd. “I just wanted to say, really quick, San, that you’re so special to me, and I’m so honored that you chose me, specifically, to be your maid of honor. You’re my best friend, and I know...that this wedding is going to be incredible. So...cheers.”

“Cheers,” the crowd echoes, also raising their glasses, but then Margaery appears beside Jeyne with a microphone of her own. 

“Thank you,” she says without looking at Jeyne. “You know, it’s so rare, as an adult, to meet someone with whom you really connect, and that person, to me, is you, Sansa. You know, I actually lived in Yi Ti for a while when I was studying for a role,” she tosses her hair and Jeyne nearly gags, “and while I was there I learned a saying.” She spews off flawless YiTish, which makes Jeyne want to punch her. “It means: ‘You are a part of me, the part that I could never live without, and I hope and pray I never have to.’” She presses her hands together and gives a small bow. “Cup quoon qua. Cup quoon qua.”

Some people in the crowd repeat it with no small amount of uncertainty. 

“Thank you for coming—“

Jeyne muscles her way forward. “Really quick—“

“That’s all for tonight—“

“Just wanna say—“

“Irri?” Margaery says, gesturing for a Dothraki woman to start bringing out the dessert wine.

“Really quickly, speaking of Irri,” Jeyne says, already regretting where she’s going with this, “Sansa and I took Dothraki together. In. School. So, I would just like to say…” She wracks her brains, trying to remember. “Athchomar Chomakea...sek...vos...me nem nesa. Hash yer dothrae chek asshekh...Anha dothrak chek asshekh...San athchomari yeraan...vezhof...Hash me laz indee jin eveth…”

Margaery takes the mic. “Thank you. Sansa, I feel so close to you, and feel that I can communicate with you with simply a look.” She offers Sansa a lingering look and then smiles at the attendees. “Thank you for coming.”

Jeyne reaches for the mic, but Margaery is loath to let go. Both women smile at each other, but finally Jeyne says, “Yeah, I got it, thanks,” and wrenches it from Margaery’s hand before turning to face Sansa, whose eyes are wide as she watches the power play. “Sansa,” she says, and fixes her friend with a long look to indicate which one of Sansa’s friends can  _ actually _ communicate with a look. 

Her eyes flutter to Theon, who’s fighting off a smirk. Clearing her throat, she tries to end the impromptu performance as smoothly as possible...by singing. 

“ _ If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea, I'll sail the world to find you—“ _

Margaery swoops in with her own mic. 

_ “If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see, I'll be the light to guide you.” _

Together, and terribly off-key, the two women fumble through the rest of the song, the lyrics getting more and more convoluted until they finish. The crowd applauds politely, but Jeyne can tell from Sansa’s face that she fully botched it. She manages to get off the stage with dignity before heading straight for the open bar. 

“Gods,” she mutters, ignoring the dessert wine in favor of two fingers of tequila. 

“Sure you need to be drinking anymore?”

She looks up at Theon, amusement written clear on his face. 

“I need to drink more, actually. Preferably until I forget that entire nightmarish ordeal.”

“It was...pretty bad,” he allows. 

“I just...hate her so much.”

“Why? Because she’s perfect?”

“Yeah.”

“Not very woke of you.”

“Oh, bugger off,” she huffs. “Women can hate each other without it being full of internalized misogyny. Sometimes you just hate a person because they’re awful.”

“Or too perfect.”

“Or too perfect,” she allows. 

He rests beside her, signaling for a second tequila. “You know, normally the maid of honor gets drunk at the  _ wedding,  _ not the engagement party.”

“Oh, I’ll be drunk then, too.”

He looks sideways at her. “Are you okay?”

“What? I’m fine.”

“No I mean like…” He gestures vaguely. “Are you...doing okay? In general? In life?”

She looks back at her tequila. “Ah.”

“Ah.”

She bites her lip. “I mean. I’m not...one hundred percent. Obviously. But um...can we not talk about it? Can we just...get sloshed instead?”

“Sure.” He raises his glass, clinking it with hers. “To Sansa.”

“To Sansa.”

.

Jeyne and Theon get well and truly drunk, taking advantage of the open bar until the party is over. Stranded in King’s Landing, too drunk to drive and too poor to afford an Uber or a hotel room, they take a long walk around the city. Jeyne’s glad she decided on sensible booties, as heels would be torment on her feet. They walk down to the waterfront and talk and laugh until they realize that they’re starving, and then they stumble over to an all-night Dornish restaurant, where they eat an ungodly amount of food. The grease and the carbs soak up the alcohol, and by the time they leave the restaurant, Jeyne’s feeling much soberer. 

It isn’t until dawn, when they’re sitting at the waterfront again and watching the sun rise over Blackwater Bay, that Jeyne remembers what Ros had said. 

“You almost got laid tonight.”

Theon makes a noise that’s half-amusement, half-surprise. “Oh?”

“Not me,” she clarifies quickly. “Ros. She was saying you were looking fit.”

To her irritation, this seems to please him. “Yeah, well, once you’ve had a taste…”

She rolls her eyes, digging in her bag of M&Ms. “Sorry I ruined your evening.”

“Okay, we’re enforcing a new policy,” he says sternly, scooting closer. “From now on, every time you say something negative about yourself, you have to put a stag in the Low Self Esteem Jar.”

“A of all, that’s bullshit, and b of all, I don’t have stags to spare.”

“Best stop talking yourself down, then,” he says in a maddening tone.

Despite herself, Jeyne smiles. 


	3. Chapter 3

Work sucks. Jeyne’s roommates suck. Playing her weird game with Harry sucks. The fact that Sansa’s getting married sucks. In general, life sucks. 

So Jeyne throws herself into planning the wedding. She gets in touch with Sansa’s PA as well as Daenerys’s own PA to schedule meetings. She books the caterer, using her own experience to find the perfect company, and offers to make the wedding cake--no mean feat, and breaking her no-baking rule, but it’s worth it for Sansa. She decides to test some samples, and then, remembering her roommates’ fondness for eating food that isn’t theirs, asks Theon if she can use his kitchen. He lives alone, in an industrial studio that Jeyne finds offensively modern, but he doesn’t have roommates and he’d always been a cheerful customer in her baking days. 

“Fuck yeah,” he says enthusiastically, so Jeyne brings her supplies and ingredients to the newly-gentrified part of town. 

“She likes lemon cake,” she says as she lays everything out. “So does Daenerys, so I’m thinking lemon cake with vanilla icing.”

“Or...you could consider a chocolate cake, with chocolate icing, for the normal people.”

“I’ll make a chocolate cake with chocolate icing just for you,” she teases. “No but seriously, there will need to be like five extra cakes to feed everyone. Then again, most of Sansa’s side will be models, so they’ll probably be fine with some...parsley and raisins or something.”

“Daenerys’s lot seemed very...vegan, so maybe you don’t have to worry about them either.”

“No, they’ll fully want vegan cakes. And gluten free cakes.” She bites her thumbnail, considering. She’s actually kind of excited by the challenge. “Maybe we’ll do the general wedding cake, and then cupcakes for everyone else? Cupcakes are trendy, right? But are they  _ too _ trendy? Too...Pinterest-y?”

Theon shrugs. “I dunno, honestly, I’ve never visited Pinterest in my life. Cupcakes seem cute, but not as…”

“Classy?”

“Yeah.” 

Jeyne ties back her hair, the cogs turning. “Cakes should do it. Sansa and Daenerys will have the final say obviously, but…”

“But you’re the expert,” he points out. 

“Not much of one,” she mutters. “Or my bakery’d still be open.”

“You know the rule, woman; stag in the Self Esteem Jar.”

Jeyne can’t even find it in herself to be amused. She stands back, looking at everything on the counter with dismay. Where she was excited mere moments ago, now she feels suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed with the task ahead of her. She wants to curl up in her bed and watch  _ Frasier _ until the studio laughter numbs her completely.

“Hey,” Theon says gently. “The bakery didn’t shut down because you did anything wrong. There were a thousand factors at work, and most of them were money-related, not because you personally did anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles.

“You’re still a good baker.”

“Thanks,” she says without feeling.

“A  _ really _ good baker. A  _ great _ baker.” He pauses. “Some might even say you’re...a master baker.”

She snorts before she can help herself; unable to hide a smile, she looks up at Theon. “Thanks.”

“Hey, I’m always here to make well-timed masturbation jokes.” He gives her a small squeeze of a hug. “Now you promised me cake, so chop-chop.”

Jeyne takes a deep breath and steps up to the counter. She goes through the motions, almost like second nature, measuring and sifting and stirring. Theon is an eager helper, doing whatever she asks, though truthfully, there isn’t much for him to do; baking a cake is easy as...well.

“The lemon’s too sweet for me,” he declares when they taste-test. “I think you should do the chocolate.”

“I think you have a chocolate addiction.” The lemon  _ is _ rather sweet, and she’s already thinking of ways to make it less so. Perhaps a different icing to contrast with the citrusy sweetness. But the chocolate is delicious. 

Theon declares the vegan cakes much better than he thought vegan cakes could taste, but he insists the gluten free is a travesty to mankind. Jeyne, who secretly agrees with him, tells him he’s being a baby and shoves more chocolate in his mouth. She writes down which samples worked best, which ones need work and what, and then uses what’s left to make a weed cake. She and Theon eat careful portions and then plant themselves in front of the TV to watch a nature documentary. It hits right as they’re watching jellyfish perform a beautiful sort of underwater ballet, and Jeyne finds tears streaming from her eyes.

“I wish I was a jellyfish,” she breathes. 

“Yeah, but then you could never fall in love, because you’d sting everyone who touched you.”

She hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe I’m already a jellyfish.”

“Whoa,” he breathes. They sit in silence for a moment, and then he throws an arm around her and yanks her to his side. 

“Whoa!”

“You’re not stinging me,” he declares. “So you can’t be a jellyfish.”

He has her there. She settles into his side and watches the rest of the documentary until the weed takes control of her senses, and then she falls asleep. 

.

It’s morning when she wakes. She’s cuddled up on the couch, a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body. She can hear Theon moving around his kitchen, and feeling bad about having stayed the night, she gets up to help him.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greets with a smile.

“Morning.” She rolls up her sleeves to help him. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Are you kidding? You let me eat free cake.”

Her phone buzzes, and when she looks at the counter, she sees a text from Myrcella confirming the date for the dress fitting.

“Everything okay?”

She sighs, turning back to the dishes. “Yeah, I just have to schedule a dress fitting for all the bridesmaids.”

“What, all at once?”

“Yeah, it’s like, a whole thing. You know, for two queer women, Sansa and Daenerys really have a very heterosexual approach to this whole wedding.”

He laughs. “How would you do it, if it were your wedding?”

“I don’t want a big wedding,” Jeyne says at once. “I mean, first of all, the idea of so many people watching me...disgusting. And it just seems so stressful. Do you know, people go into debt over weddings? They spend more time paying it off than they do actually married. No, if and when I get married, it’ll be quiet. Like. A courthouse wedding, and maybe a party after. A small party, with only the people I care about, and not the obligatory, like, distant relatives and rude coworkers you have to invite even though you don’t want to.”

“Weddings should be fun,” he agrees. “Like a carnival.”

She laughs. “What?”

“You know, like, there are games, and people win prizes. Like guessing the bride’s weight. Dunking the racist uncle.”

She laughs again. “Well, I look forward to going to your wedding, then.”

He gives her a strange look. “Yeah...we’ll see.”

Jeyne has no idea what to make of that.

.

On a Saturday that the entire bridal party miraculously has free, the women get together for lunch and their fittings. They take a limousine (rented on Sansa’s dime, thank the gods) to a Volantene restaurant on Jeyne’s suggestion. 

“Is this part of the city...safe?” Myrcella asks dubiously, watching the historical district fade out into rundown buildings with graffiti and misspelled advertisements for lawyers that can get you a divorce  _ fast _ . 

“Is that code for ‘white’?” Arya deadpans.

“I know how it looks,” Jeyne says, though privately she’s with Arya. “But I promise this place is really amazing.”

“I gotta say, Jeyne’s really good at this,” Sansa says, defending her best friend. “She always drags me to these weird places and the food turns out to be amazing.” 

It gives Jeyne a sense of gross satisfaction to watch Margaery climb out of the limo, her mint green heels picking their way across the cracked asphalt. She’s willing to bet Margaery’s never been to this side of town, or eaten at a place that isn’t Michelin starred. Jeyne leads the women inside, where the hostess silently seats them at the long table in the middle of the restaurant. Volantene music plays dimly while the owner waits on them personally, serving dish after dish of Volantene food. Everyone exclaims over how good it is, and Jeyne feels a sense of satisfaction. 

“Margaery,” Sansa says about halfway through the entrees. “You’re not eating?”

“Oh, not really,” Margaery says, having the good grace to look embarrassed. “It’s not good to eat a big meal before a fitting, you know, in case you get bloated.”

“I never understood that,” Jeyne Westerling says bluntly. “Because I mean, what if you’re bloated when you wear the dress? Shouldn’t you prepare for the event of bloating?”

“Gods, I’m glad I don’t model anymore,” Ros sighs. “The preparation was exhausting.”

“I don’t bloat,” Arya states. 

No one believes her, but Jeyne has a feeling Arya never intended for them to believe her anyway. 

Sansa gets up to go to the bathroom; as soon as she’s gone, Jeyne leans in to the other women.

“Okay, so I’ve been coming up with ideas for the wedding shower, and I think it should be a surprise.”

“I love surprises!” Myrcella squeals.

“Sansa has always been really into historical dramas and stuff, so I was thinking, maybe we have, like, an Age of Heroes themed shower, with like musicians dressed as minstrels and everyone wears flower crowns like Jonquil and stuff. We can even bring in a fake Iron Throne and people can take pictures. And because I’m a kid at heart, we should one hundred percent rent a bouncy castle.”

There are a few laughs, but Margaery’s is faker than the rest. 

“That’s really cute,” she says, and Jeyne can just  _ feel _ a ‘but’ coming. “But...I’m wondering if it’s a little…” She makes a cute grimace. Jeyne didn’t even know that was possible. “You know. Juvenile.”

Jeyne forces her eyes not to roll, but gods, it’s hard. 

“I just think maybe we should think up some other ideas, you know, all come up with something  _ together _ .”

“Oh, what about a princess themed party?” Myrcella squeaks. 

“Or,” Arya speaks up, and Jeyne braces herself. “Female  _ Fight Club _ . Yeah. We grease up, roll in there, Sansa doesn’t know we’re coming, ‘surprise!’ We beat the  _ shit _ out of her.”

“Okay, we’re not doing that,” Westerling says flatly. 

“Right, but the shower should be like, an afterthought,” Ros points out. “The  _ real _ focus should be the bachelorette party.”

The others hum in agreement. 

Margaery glances at the restroom, keeping her voice low. “Just, whatever we do, it has to be  _ really special _ !”

_ Age of Heroes  _ is  _ fucking special to Sansa, Margaery, you giant twat.  _

.

After lunch, the limousine takes them to Sansa’s studio in uptown, where she sits them down in her floor-to-ceiling glass conference room and runs through mock-ups of the bridesmaid’s dresses. They’re all going to be baby blue, which, Sansa points out, is the most flattering shade and color for them as a group. They’re also going to be of a similar cut, but with stylized differences.

“I chose all of you guys as my bridesmaids because you’re all special to me in different yet equally important ways,” Sansa says, clicking through a slideshow. The slits will be in different places and of different lengths, the necklines will be different, and so on. 

“So,” Sansa says when the slideshow is finished, beaming. “Let’s take some measurements!”

Arya lets out a very loud belch. 

“ _ Gods _ , Arya!”

“Sorry,” Arya says, not looking sorry at all.

Sansa’s assistant tops them up with champagne as Sansa takes their measurements and jots them down. Jeyne drinks perhaps more of her champagne than she ought to; her stomach is rumbling unpleasantly, and the carbonation helps. It cools her down, too, as the studio is ungodly hot. 

“Are you hot?” she asks the other Jeyne, who has a certain sparkle to her face. 

“Sweating bullets,” Westerling agrees, fanning herself. “Sansa, could you turn on the air?”

“It’s, um, on?” the assistant squeaks. 

“Shit, I must be menopausal,” Westerling grunts.

“You’re not even forty.”

“Early onset menopause is a  _ thing _ , Poole.”

“So we both have menopause?” 

“Right, maybe not, but we both…”

It’s at that moment that Myrcella throws up in her hands. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Jeyne hisses, feeling her own stomach turn. 

“Oh gods,” Ros says, shining with sweat. 

“I think I’m sick,” Myrcella whispers, trembling. 

Arya manages to throw up and shit at the same time.

“ _ NOT ON THE CARPET!”  _ Sansa screams, letting out what sounds like a shart.

Sansa, Arya, Myrcella, Ros, and Jeyne Westerling all run for the bathroom. The only person who doesn’t, besides Sansa’s squeamish assistant, is Margaery.

Who, Jeyne remembers now, didn’t eat any meat at the Volantene restaurant. 

_ Shit _ .

“That’s...so weird,” Jeyne says, even though she herself is sweating bullets and feels that any sudden movement might release a waterfall of diarrhea. “Everyone must be pregnant.”

Margaery gives her a wide yet toothless smile. “Really? It seems like food poisoning to me.”

“Haha,” Jeyne says, clamping her buttcheeks together. “No, I think it’s. They’re. Pregnant.”

“You think Sansa...is pregnant...with Daenerys?”

“I mean. Maybe.”  _ Stop talking you idiot. _

Margaery’s head tilts impressively. “I think it’s that food from the restaurant. I mean. I was the only one who didn’t eat the meat, remember? And I feel fine.”

“I also feel fine,” Jeyne lies even as her traitorous stomach growls threateningly. 

“ _ Really _ ?” Margaery asks with wide eyes. “Because you look a bit ill.”

“Don’t be rude,” Jeyne scoffs. “I feel great.”

“Do you really?”

“I feel fine,” Jeyne lies, feeling sweat roll down her back. “In fact...I’m feeling hungry, and I could use a snack.”

Margaery’s smile widens. “Why didn’t you say so?” She leans over, plucking up the untouched cheese tray and coming towards Jeyne with it. Her stomach revolts at the very sight, but she forces a smile as wide as Margaery’s. 

“Thank you...Margaery.” Jeyne selects a healthy hunk of mozzarella and slides it into her mouth. She gags, yet somehow forces herself to swallow the cheese. “Mmmmm,” she says with exaggerated enthusiasm. 

And then promptly proceeds to vomit all over Margaery’s mint-green dress. 

Honestly…

It’s worth it.


	4. Chapter 4

The other bridesmaids are considerably cooler to Jeyne after the food poisoning incident. She can hardly blame them; her own stomach is slow to forgive her. Sansa intervenes by throwing a small party at the studio to finish taking measurements; she has plenty of champagne (but no meat or cheese) available, and over the bubbly drinks and a Top 40 station playing in the background, the other women slowly warm up to Jeyne. 

All except for Margaery, who, despite her outwardly sweet demeanor, can only speak in veiled barbs to the other woman. Jeyne has to wonder what sort of power trip she gets from taking down a woman who’s already in a low place. Margaery has it all--good looks, money, a promising career ahead of her. All Jeyne has is Sansa, and it’s like Margaery wants to take that away from her, too.

The thought deeply troubles Jeyne, and after the fittings, she’s buzzed enough to send a suggestive text to Harry. He responds with a dick pic, which...is pretty par for the course, but he follows it up with an invitation to come over, so Jeyne skips right over to his place. She even convinces Harry to let her be on top, which makes her feel sexy and powerful, even if he then flips her over and asks if he can cum on her face. (She endures a lot of things, but that is not one of them.)

After, when they’re doing what harlequin novels call  _ basking in the afterglow, _ she feels bold enough to say, “You know, you should come to Sansa’s wedding with me.”

He laughs a little, which. Right. Of course he wouldn’t want to come to Sansa’s wedding with her. He’s...Harry, and she’s...her.

“It’ll be fun,” she wheedles, already sensing the losing battle. “We can, you know, get dressed up, dance, have fun.”

“That sounds super lame,” he snorts. “And besides, I don’t want you to have to explain to people what we are.”

“What...are we?”

He gives her a pitying smile.

Jeyne lies back, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, well, I just thought...it’s fine. I have someone else who wants to go with me anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks in disbelief, and Jeyne feels rankled. 

“Yeah,” she snaps. “His name is Theon and he’s really into me.” Which. Okay. Harry’s never going to verify that, but even if he did, she knows Theon would cover for her. 

“Oh yeah?” he scoffs. “Well can Theon do...this?” He cups one breast and makes an odd circular motion. It isn’t sexy, and now that she’s gotten it out of her system, she wonders if Sansa is right and maybe Harry is kind of a loser. 

“Uh...yeah, pretty sure.” A little fed up, she takes Harry’s hand off of her breast and gets out of bed. “I’m gonna freshen up and go.”

“Already?” he asks, sounding surprised. 

She looks over her shoulder. “Is that a problem?”

Harry is too stunned to answer her. Feeling satisfied, she sashays into the bathroom, where she cleans up before pulling on her clothes. She even touches up her makeup, just to give the impression of going out. Harry is still in his bed, and though he’s on his phone, she can feel him look up at her. She’s never left so quickly before. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

While she’s still dressing, she texts Theon.

_ What are you up to? _

**_Watching Asha steal some guy’s girlfriend, want to join?_ **

Jeyne smiles.  _ Of course. Send me the address. _

She walks out of Harry’s room, but not before looking over her shoulder at him again. “See you.” 

“See you,” he says back, but she’s already gone, using the pin Theon sent her to summon a Lyft.

.

The address turns out to be a dive bar. Jeyne shows the bouncer her ID and then descends the steps into a bar she’s pretty sure is not up to fire code. She finds Theon sitting at a table, watching Asha flirt with a cute brunette while her boyfriend looks on in dismay. The snapback-wearing man stands no chance against Asha’s leather jacket and multiple piercings, and they all know it. 

“Do you think she knows she’s bi?” Jeyne asks as she takes a seat beside Theon. “Or is Asha her gay awakening?”

“Five stags says she knows she’s bi but has never had sex with a woman before,” Theon responds. “Look, she’s practically drooling.”

It’s true that the cute brunette is all eyes for Asha, her body language indicating that she very much wants the other woman to absolutely rail her. Jeyne can hardly blame her; if she was dating such a milquetoast straight man and someone with Asha’s chaotic bisexual energy approached her, she’d be a hot mess.

“She’s gonna absolutely fall in love with your sister.”

“Too bad, because Asha’s terrible at relationships. All the Greyjoys are.”

She squeezes his hand. Theon rarely talks about his ex, which is probably for the best; every time Jeyne thinks about him, she wants to find the guy and beat the shit out of him. 

“Oh, speaking of,” she says, “I may or may not have told someone you were my date to the wedding.”

Theon looks at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I was trying to make him jealous and I think it’s working, so if he asks, just go with it, yeah?”

“Sure. Who’s the guy?”

“I’m gonna get a beer,” she says abruptly, leaping to her feet.

Theon’s face darkens. “It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

She looks away. “Um…”

“That guy’s a prick,” he says vehemently. 

“You sound like Sansa.”

“If Sansa and I agree on something, then you  _ know _ it’s serious.”

She huffs. “It’s not like guys are lining up at the door, you know.”

“So what, you’ll take what you can get?”

She winces. “You know what, I’m getting a headache, I’m gonna go home.” She moves quickly out of the bar, her earlier confidence shattered. She shouldn’t have said anything. She knows how everyone feels about Harry, and she should’ve known better than to mention him, even in passing.

“Jeyne!”

She doesn’t stop, but she does slow down as Theon catches up with her.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “I was being harsh, I just don’t...I don’t  _ get _ what you see in him. You could do so much better.”

“I mean, I can’t, obviously.” Her voice catches and she clears her throat. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay. Do you really want to go home?”

She hesitates. “Not really.”

“Will you let me buy you a beer while we watch Asha destroy that guy’s whole life?”

She stops. “Well. Okay.” She turns around, walking with him back inside the bar, where he does buy her a beer as they watch Asha slowly seduce the brunette. The boyfriend finally storms out, and Asha and the brunette make a beeline for the bathroom.

“I almost feel bad for him,” Jeyne admits. “He didn’t stand a chance against Asha.”

“No one ever does,” Theon says with an odd kind of pride.

“Are you ever worried that if you got a girlfriend, Asha would steal her?”

“Asha would never do that,” he says firmly. “But she definitely has more appeal to the ladies than I do, so I couldn’t exactly blame a girlfriend for falling in love with her or something.”

“Ah, sweet Theon, we will find you love.”

He gives her a look she can’t quite place. “Yeah. Maybe.”

.

As the wedding draws nearer, so does the reminder that Jeyne has to throw the bachelorette party. She keeps feeling optimistic in her ability to get a raise, put in some extra hours, do something, anything to make a little more money...but weeks go by and her paycheck remains the same. She can barely afford to pay her own rent, let alone splurge on a big event. It’s not enough anymore to have a simple party; now, you have to make a whole weekend out of it. What is she going to do?

It’s Arya who thoughtfully sends her a link to an AirBnB in upstate, a cabin right on the lake. Jeyne thinks it’s perfect. They can load up on food and wine and have a girls’ weekend in—no extravagant party, no spending money beyond her share of the AirBnB and food and wine. Maybe she can get to know the other women better. Maybe even Margaery will relax under the quiet solitude and be kinder to Jeyne. 

Making a tentative booking, Jeyne emails the other bridesmaids with the suggestion. She feels confident that they’ll all like it, just a weekend in with the bride to be. 

It feels like all of five seconds have passed since hitting ‘send’ when Jeyne’s phone buzzes. Across the screen is Margaery’s name, and the throwing up emoji. Jeyne steels herself and answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Margaery says, all sickly sweet. “I just got your email...a lakeside cabin?”

“Yeah.” Jeyne can feel her confidence rapidly disappearing. “Arya sent me the link, it seems like a good idea, you know, a girls’ weekend in.”

“Huh.” Margaery does not sound like she thinks it’s a good idea. “You know, I was thinking, it might be more fun to go to Sunspear.”

Jeyne’s stomach twists. Of course. Sunspear. Well known for being one of the most expensive cities in Westeros. “I don’t know…”

“I know the other girls would love it—“

“I’ll have to think about it,” Jeyne says. “I’ve gotta go, talk to you later.” She hangs up, hoping that the other girls will have her back.

They do not. It quickly becomes apparent that Margaery has spoken to all of them and convinced them to push the Sunspear thing. Torn, Jeyne finally confronts Sansa and asks which she’d rather do.

With a guilty face, Sansa quietly admits, “I...kind of want to go to Sunspear.”

And because Sansa is Jeyne’s best friend, she sucks it up.

To her credit, Sansa does quietly pay for Jeyne’s portion of the hotel. 

“You don’t have to,” Jeyne protests, albeit weakly. 

“We both know it’s not in your budget right now,” Sansa tells her. “I can afford it, it’s fine. I just want to have you there. Besides, all the work you’re doing as my maid of honor...the least I can do is put you up for a few nights.”

Jeyne suspects that Sansa will be treating her to more than just the hotel--the restaurants and entertainment are all going to be beyond her budget, too. Jeyne feels bad, but she doesn’t really know what to do. If she protests and insists on paying her way, she’ll be broke approximately one hour into Sunspear. If she lets for Sansa pay for everything, she’ll feel like a freeloader. So what is she going to do?

At least Daenerys is lending them the use of her private jet. Jeyne, who hates flying, will at least be surrounded by people she knows and won’t have to deal with all the normal hassles of flying. Trying to get into the team spirit, she makes t-shirts for all the women, flamingo pink with gold lettering that says  _ Bridal Party _ . The other women shriek in excitement when they see the shirts. All except for Margaery, whose smile becomes noticeably tighter. 

_ Not as tight, _ Jeyne thinks,  _ as the shirt will be. _ She may or may not have planned it that way. 

.

Both to calm her flight anxiety and also to ensure that everyone has a good time, Jeyne bakes some weed brownies before they head to Sunspear. She doesn’t think it’ll be a problem since it’s not like there’s TSA on private jets.

She shows Sansa when they board the jet. Her friend’s eyes widen.

“Jeyne, what the fuck?!” she hisses. “We have to go through customs!”

Jeyne stares at her. “But it’s...a private jet.”

“Flying to an independent principality! There’s been a  _ serious _ problem moving drugs over the border, have you been paying any attention?!”

“I thought that was just, like, a  _ CSI: King’s Landing _ thing!”

“Oh my gods.” Sansa pinches the bridge of her nose. “We have to get rid of them.”

The pilot announces that they’re beginning takeoff and Jeyne begins to panic. 

“Should we flush them?”

“No, they might search the tank.” Sansa steels herself. “We’ll have to eat them. How many are there?”

Jeyne swallows. “Um. I made two pans.”

“ _ Jeyne, what the fuck? _ ”

“They were meant for the whole trip!” Jeyne wails. 

Sansa sighs. “Well, there’s nothing for it, I guess.” She stands up, clapping her hands. “Ladies, something very serious has happened!”

The other women cease their chatter and look up at her.

“Jeyne has made weed brownies and didn’t realize that we’d have to go through customs. We have to eat them before we land.”

“Sweet,” Arya says, already moving to take the Ziploc bag. “How many are there?”

“Two pans’ worth.”

The other women cry out in dismay, but Sansa has a look of steely resolve on her face. “It’s eat them now or all get arrested for transporting drugs across the border.”

“Dornish prison is really intense,” Myrcella says with wide eyes. “We like, can _ not _ get caught transporting drugs.”

Arya is already shoving a brownie down her gullet. “Well?” she asks around the chocolate, holding out the bag and shaking it. 

“I can’t eat that much sugar,” Margaery starts to protest.

“ _ Eat the bloody brownies, Margaery, _ ” Sansa growls.

Wide-eyed, Margaery silently takes a brownie. 

“We are going to eat them until they’re  _ gone _ . Not even a  _ crumb _ will remain, do you understand me?” Sansa says, still in that authoritative growl. “We are  _ not _ getting arrested on my  _ bachelorette party, do you hear me? _ ”

“Loud and clear, sis,” Arya says, already reaching for a second. 

Jeyne can feel the resentful gazes on her. It’ll be fine, she tells herself.

...won’t it?

.

It’s not fine. 

The brownies don’t hit for a while, but when they do, all anyone can do is lie on the ground and moan. Jeyne, lying beside Sansa, sees tears streaming from her best friend’s eyes. She tries to eat one, but Sansa rolls over to Margaery, who cradles her protectively. Saddened, Jeyne crawls over to Arya, who’s staring at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Are you dead?”

“Not yet,” Arya says, her lips somehow not moving. 

“Am I?”

“Not yet.”

The ominous threat in Arya’s words sit heavy on Jeyne, who crawls over to Westerling. The other woman has her face buried in a shirt. 

“I’ve never done edibles before,” she admits.

“Never?!”

“No. It’s so much. I can’t look up or I’ll see the heart of the universe and I’m not ready for that.”

“Oh shit, where is it?” Jeyne asks, covering her eyes so that she doesn’t have to see it either. 

“Everywhere.”

This may be even more ominous than Arya’s admission, so Jeyne keeps her eyes to the floor as she crawls over to Ros and Myrcella. The two women are staring at each other, entranced, and occasionally reach up to touch the other’s cheek or hair. 

“Are you guys okay? Have you seen the heart of the universe?” Jeyne asks.

“Look inside,” Ros hums.

“I don’t want to.”

“The heart is inside you.”

Jeyne is now severely freaked out. She searches for a safe haven...and uncovers a door hidden in the wall. Hands fumbling, she searches for an opening and pushes open the door. 

The room is screaming. She isn’t sure how else to describe it, but there’s a whistling noise like wind. 

“Is this the heart of the universe?”

A man, who Jeyne belatedly realizes is a pilot, frowns at her. “Is everything okay, miss?”

“Why is the room screaming?” she asks. 

“Miss, I really think you should go back to the cabin--”

Jeyne pulls herself up into a sitting position. “Other Jeyne said that she could see the heart of the universe. Is it in here? Is that why the room is screaming?”

The pilot gives her a strange look. “Are you...high?”

“No,” she lies. “None of us are high. It’s  _ illegal _ to transport drugs across the border. We’re not doing that.”

The pilot glances behind her. “Okay…” He takes off his headset and gets up.

“The plane!” she shouts. “Who’s flying it?!”

“It’s on autopilot, it’ll be fine.” He helps her up. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere quiet and find Miss Stark.” They only get as far as the main cabin before her legs decide to stop working, so she sinks into a puddle on the ground. The pilot leaves her to find Sansa.

It feels wrong, it feels very wrong. The screaming gets worse, and Jeyne becomes more and more fearful that the heart of the universe is really just outside. She chances a look out the window and starts to shake all over, because sitting outside is a colonial woman churning butter. The woman is not supposed to be there, she’s sure, and Jeyne is the only one who can stop her, so she hauls herself to her feet and stumbles into the cockpit. She doesn’t know what exactly to do, so she finds herself pulling at the steering wheel. Is that what you call it in a plane? A steering wheel?

The plane takes a nose dive and the cabin fills with screams. The pilot rushes in, eyes wide and frantic. “What are you doing?!”

“There’s a colonial woman churning butter!” she shouts even as he tries to wrestle her away from the controls. “There’s something they’re not telling us!  _ THERE’S SOMETHING THEY’RE NOT TELLING US! _ ”

A small, blunt force knocks Jeyne off her feet, tackling her to the ground. She screams, thinking it’s the colonial woman, but a bossy little voice says, “OI, YOU’RE HIGH OFF YOUR ARSE, WOMAN!”

“Arya?” she slurs, and then passes out.

.

When she wakes up, she’s on a bus. 

Her head feels like cotton, and it takes her a long time to get her bearings. She sits up, groggy, and realizes that the entire bridal party is on a bus, all of them looking worse for wear. Sansa’s sitting across the aisle with Margaery, but when she sees Jeyne, she quietly moves into the seat beside her.

“What...happened?” Jeyne asks.

“You went mental,” Sansa says a little coldly. “You nearly crashed the plane.”

Jeyne’s head begins to throb. “I...really?”

“You were really fucked up. We got in trouble.”

“In trouble?”

Sansa’s livid, Jeyne sees now. “Gendry’s in trouble because he let a passenger get to the cockpit.”

“Gendry?”

“The  _ pilot _ . He’s been working for Daenerys for years. He has to stay in Ashford while the authorities look into it. I was supposed to stay with him, but Arya volunteered to handle everything because she was the most lucid of all of us.”

“She tackled me,” Jeyne remembers.

“Because you were going to  _ crash the plane _ .” Sansa bites her lip. “Daenerys is on the way to Ashford now to run damage control, hopefully the press hasn’t gotten wind of this.” She shakes her head. “I’m not gonna lie, Jeyne, you...really fucked up.”

If she was less disoriented, Jeyne knows she’d have the wherewithal to cry. She’s never taken well to criticism, and something so blunt coming from her best friend…

“I’m sorry,” she manages. “Sansa, I’m really,  _ really _ sorry, I know, I fucked up, and I will totally make it up to you, I promise. We’ll reschedule the bachelorette party and your shower will be  _ amazing _ .”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Sansa takes a deep breath. “I think this whole wedding has stressed you out. A lot. I shouldn’t have asked you to take on so much when you’re going through so much already.”

Jeyne opens her mouth to protest but finds the words stuck in her throat.

“I think Margaery should take things from here. She has a lot of experience with this kind of stuff, and it won’t stress her out.”

Jeyne closes her eyes. “Sansa…” 

But Sansa is moving back across the aisle to sit with Margaery. Jeyne looks out the window, tears pricking her eyes. 

This may possibly be the worst day of her life.


	5. Chapter 5

Three very terrible things happen to Jeyne in the days following the bachelorette party incident. 

The first is that she gets fired. That in and of itself isn’t really a surprise, given how little she’d cared about the job, but it still sucks. It’s the only job she’s been able to get since the bakery, and even though she’s been applying for other jobs, none of those have come through. 

The second terrible thing is that her roommates ask her to move out. 

“It’s just, you never pay rent,” Hot Pie says apologetically. “It’s never on time and never the full amount, and Lommy’s friend is looking for a place, and he’s already promised to pay the first two months upfront in cash, so…”

She can’t blame him. Not really. It doesn’t suck any less, though. Now she’s out of a job and an apartment, which leaves her with no other recourse. 

So the third terrible thing is that she moves in with her father. 

It isn’t that bad, really, it’s just that she feels like she’s suffocating from the moment she walks through the door. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Vayon hums, helping her move her meager possessions into her old room. “It’ll be like old times.”

“Yeah,” Jeyne says without feeling. “Great.”

He squeezes her hand. “You know, in AA, this is what we call hitting bottom.”

“You’re not an alcoholic, Dad. And...thanks? I think?”

“Anytime,” he says cheerfully. “Now, I’ve got a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle that needs doing.”

.

More terrible things keep on happening. Sansa ignores all of Jeyne’s messages yet has the audacity to post wedding updates with Margaery, who, Jeyne learns from Instagram, has officially replaced her as maid of honor. Jeyne cries herself to sleep every night, wondering where it all went wrong. 

It’s Theon who gets her out of the house finally, inviting her over to watch the latest Netflix romcom. Jeyne always used to watch these with Sansa, but Theon is an acceptable substitute; he gets way more invested in the movie than she does, and when the lovers finally admit their feelings, he actually sniffles. 

“I just like a good love story,” he defends when Jeyne raises her eyebrows. “I love love.”

“Yeah.” Jeyne, watching the quirky protagonist, feels an ache inside her chest. The heroine always hits a rough patch, and then gets her happily ever after.  _ Will I get one? Or will I have to settle for a happy enough? _

“You okay?” Theon asks, nudging her. 

She shrugs. “I mean. My life is falling apart all around me. I lost my bakery, my boyfriend, my apartment, my job, and my best friend. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Nowhere to go but up.”

She sighs. “Yeah, but...what am I even going to do?”

“Start from scratch. Take some time to figure things out. Look, I get it.” He leans in, face earnest. “When my ex and I broke up, it was like...it was like I’d gone to sleep somewhere and some other version of me had taken over and destroyed everything. I’d ruined my whole life for some pretty mediocre dick, if we’re being honest. If it hadn’t been for Asha…” He shakes his head. “It took forever to get here. With a job and my own place and most of my old friends back, and Robb and I still aren’t as close as we used to be, but at least we’re friends again, you know?”

“I don’t want to be  _ just _ friends with Sansa, though,” she says quietly. “I want to be  _ best _ friends again.”

“Maybe you will be. Maybe she just needs time.”

She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“You still have me,” he points out with a wan smile. “Whatever that’s worth.”

She feels stupid. Here she’s been moping about one friend when she’s had another right in front of her, one who actually listens and cares about her. “It’s worth a lot,” she rushes to assure him. “You’ve been really good to me, Theon, and I really appreciate it. Thanks. For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He squeezes her knee, moving to get up. “I’m getting another drink, want a--”

But he doesn’t finish, because for some inexplicable reason, Jeyne launches herself at him. Maybe it’s because he squeezed her knee. Maybe it’s because he’s being so nice to her and she’s so lonely. Maybe it was a long time coming. Whatever the reason, she doesn’t let him off the couch, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him towards her until her lips are on his. 

And Theon, to her relief, kisses her back, sinking back onto the couch and letting her climb into his lap. This is...gods, this is  _ miles _ better than kissing Harry. She isn’t self-conscious and thinking about her every move, she’s just...kissing her friend Theon. Who, she’s delighted to find, knows how to use his tongue.  _ Gods, _ but he can use that tongue. 

And then he’s standing up, keeping her wrapped around him, and walks to the bed. 

“Is this okay?” he asks breathlessly.

“Only if you don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t.

.

The sex is...wow. 

Just.

Phenomenal. 

Theon... _ really _ knows how to use his tongue. He goes down on Jeyne for a solid half hour before doing anything else, and he won’t let her return the favor.

“Been waiting too long to do this,” he admits with a boyish grin. “Don’t wanna waste another minute not being inside you.”

And that’s…

Well.

That’s some fucking poetry right there.

She actually loses count of how many times she comes. Five? Six? Seven? Definitely more than she ever has with Harry, or even with Ramsay towards the end. Even her vibrator hasn’t coaxed this many climaxes from her in one night. He never seems to tire, always seems so eager to please. It’s nice, for once, to not have to take charge of her own pleasure, to just sit back and let a man absolutely ravish her. 

He does it again in the morning, even though she has morning breath and last night’s mascara is clumpy and her hair is probably a mess. And for a while, she has a really good time. She likes Theon, and she’s finding that this is the best and easiest sex she’s ever had. Is it because they’re already friends? Because she can be open with him and doesn’t feel the need to impress him?

She should’ve known it was too good to last.

.

She falls asleep after the morning round, when Theon gets up to take a shower. She wakes up a while later, and feeling the bed empty beside her, sits up to look for Theon. It’s a studio, so she can see everything from the bed...and she can see that she’s the only one here. There’s no sign of Theon. 

Her heart sinks. Oh. Right. He must have realized what a mistake this was and left. He’s probably waiting for her to leave before he comes back.

_ Stupid fucking moron. _ She’s ruined everything, even her friendship with Theon. What  _ can’t _ she ruin?

Feeling disgusted and ashamed, she dresses quickly and quietly before slipping out of the apartment and to her car. It doesn’t really hit her until she pulls into her driveway; putting the car in park, she cries harder than she has in a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

Theon gives nothing but radio silence over the next few weeks. Not that Jeyne is making any attempt to talk to him, either; she’s too ashamed by the way she’d thrown herself at him only for him to leave in the morning. 

Sansa is also silent, painfully so. None of the Starks will talk to Jeyne anymore, and she’s guessing from context clues that they won’t talk to her father, either. That depresses her even more, because Ned and Catelyn were two of Vayon’s only friends once he’d gone into retirement. So not only has she ruined her own life, but she’s also ruined her father’s. 

The real cherry on top is when she gets an invitation to Sansa’s wedding shower...via Margaery, of all people. And worse yet, it’s Age of Heroes themed, exactly the way Jeyne had suggested before Margaery had shot her down. 

_ That bitch. _

To show that she’s a good person who’s mature and doesn’t hold grudges, she RSVPs as enthusiastically as possible and gets to work on her present for Sansa. She makes a memorabilia package of all their favorite candies and inside jokes from growing up together, and even throws in Britney Spears’s  _ Oops I Did It Again _ album to commemorate the time they’d pooled their savings together to buy their first ever CD. They’d shared that thing for years, passing it back and forth but mostly playing it during their weekly sleepovers. It makes Jeyne feel a little better. Sansa can’t just ignore the good times they’ve had, can she?

“Are you sure you feel up to this?” Vayon asks as she gets ready to leave the morning of the shower. 

“Not really,” she admits. “But Sansa’s my best friend and I want to be there for her.”

He snorts.

“What?”

“She hasn’t exactly been there for you lately, has she?” When she doesn’t say anything, he continues, “You’ve been through the ringer, and it’s inconvenient for her, so she’s not speaking to you. You need her now more than ever, and where is she? Off finding a replacement friend.”

The words sting, but only because they’re true. Vayon rarely speaks so bluntly, and Jeyne wonders how long he’s been sitting on this. She comes over to his chair, sitting on the arm. “This has been hard on you, too, hasn’t it?”

He sighs, patting her leg. “You’re all I have, Jeyne. Everything I’ve ever done has been for you. And I can’t do as much as I used to and it kills me. I hate watching you suffer like this, and I hate that Sansa, who spent every Friday night here and biked over whenever you needed a friend, who I treated like my own daughter, would just...dump you like this.”

_ Dump you. _ That’s truly what it feels like. Worse, even. Boyfriends and girlfriends come and go, but best friends aren’t so easily replaceable. Jeyne has literally spent her life with Sansa, and now…

She doesn’t want to go to the shower—she  _ really  _ doesn’t want to. But if she doesn’t go, Sansa will just forget about her, and Jeyne can’t stand that thought. 

And who knows? Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe Sansa will feel bad about what happened and want to be friends again. Maybe there was some misunderstanding. Maybe…

Well. She won’t know if she doesn’t go.

.

The shower is being held at Margaery’s house. A security guard lets Jeyne through the gate and a valet comes out to park her car. Taking a deep breath, Jeyne walks into the house, clutching her gift. It’s swanky  _ as fuck _ in Margaery’s house, though Jeyne expected nothing less; the entire place is made of marble, and beautiful plants spill artistically from their pots. A table in the center of the foyer has all the gifts, so Jeyne leaves hers there and pads quietly outside where everyone seems to be congregated. 

Everyone is dressed for the light summer afternoon in silk and cotton dresses, holding glasses of champagne and milling about by the refreshments. Few of them are actually eating, of course, because gods forbid they ingest something even slightly resembling a calorie. 

_ Fuckers.  _

Margaery approaches Jeyne, that sickly sweet smile affixed to her face. 

“Jeyne!” she coos. “So good of you to come!”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Jeyne says before she can stop herself. She and Margaery passive aggressively regard each other for a long moment. 

“There are snacks,” Margaery offers at last. “No brownies this time, though.”

Jeyne winces. “Look—“

“Hi Jeyne.”

It’s Sansa, resplendent as always, but her neck stiffer than usual. She gives Margaery a look, and the other woman walks away. 

“Hi,” Jeyne says at last, feeling ugly and foolish and poor beside her friend. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” Sansa hesitates. “I’m sorry I haven’t been...around as much. I’ve just been so caught up with the wedding and everything—“

“Yeah, no worries,” Jeyne assures her, hating how passive she is in that moment. “I get it.” She winces again. “But are we...okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sansa says far too quickly. “Of course, I’ve just been busy with the wedding, and...I wasn’t sure how you were...doing.”

Jeyne hesitates. Should she be honest and tell Sansa her life is hell? Would that be pushing her luck? And it  _ is _ Sansa’s day, after all, would it be right to share her problems on her friend’s day? 

“I’ve missed you,” she says honestly. 

Now it’s Sansa’s turn to wince. “Yeah, I...things will slow down soon, after the wedding.” She clears her throat. “I should um, I should go say hi to my aunt or she’ll be mad at my mum.”

“Right. Of course.”

Sansa sweeps away to say hello to Lysa, who is admittedly high strung, but Jeyne can’t help suspect the other woman was just an excuse for Sansa to get away from Jeyne.

.

After nibbling at the refreshments for a while, the women move indoors to watch Sansa open gifts. Most of them are pretty standard; kitchen appliances, towels, the like. And Sansa, ever the proper lady, smiles enthusiastically and finds a unique way to thank every gift giver. 

But when she opens Jeyne’s present, the happy surprise is evident. 

“Oh my gods,” she murmurs, carefully removing each item from the box. “These are all the candies from our favorite places growing up! And these are photos of us…” She chuckles as she comes across one where they’d done a truly terrible job of dressing up like the Spice Girls. “And  _ gods _ , Britney! Our first CD!”

Jeyne smiles, pleased with herself. She can see the genuine happiness in Sansa’s eyes and knows that she’s won a small victory today.

“Well now I feel bad,” Margaery jokes. “Sansa, I feel so bad, I was so busy planning the shower I forgot to get you something.”

“Margaery, you’ve done enough,” Sansa says, but Margaery hands her a card. Jeyne instantly feels her hackles rise, the feeling getting worse when Sansa’s eyes widen and her mouth parts.

“What is it?” Catelyn urges.

Sansa looks up. “She’s...taking me to Pentos.”

Happy gasps fill the room, but Jeyne snaps.

“Are you  _ fucking _ kidding me?”

“Jeyne,” Catelyn murmurs, but Jeyne ignores her.

“Mother _ fucking _ Pentos? Sorry, I thought it was  _ Daenerys’s _ job to take you on a honeymoon.”

The earlier happiness is gone, replaced by anger. Sansa sets aside the card, standing up. 

“Jeyne, that was uncalled for.”

“Uncalled for? Does your fiancee know that you’re being wooed by another woman? I mean, what kind of  _ friend _ does that for another friend?”

“A good one,” Sansa snaps. “When was the last time you did anything for me recently?”

That hurts. A lot. 

So Jeyne says some of the things she hasn’t dared to say until now.

“Oh, I don’t know, was it when I ate a  _ shitload _ of weed brownies so you wouldn’t get arrested? Or singlehandedly agreed to bake  _ every _ cake for  _ every _ fucking guest at your wedding? Do you know how many  _ food allergies _ people have?! But we all know they’re not really going to eat them because  _ gods _ forbid any of the women in this room ingest anything that isn’t zero calorie mineral water! There’s a whole fucking table of food out there that no one’s eating!” Logically, Jeyne realizes she should stop now, but she’s too far gone to care. “You’re all so obsessed with your looks that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a personality  _ and it shows _ . Ever since you started hanging out with Margaery you’ve turned into this vapid, horrible person that I’d  _ never _ want to be friends with in a million  _ years _ !”

“Jeyne, enough,” Catelyn says sharply. “Arya, will you walk her out?”

“Don’t  _ fucking _ touch me!” Jeyne screams, storming out the house. Tears stream down her face, and belatedly, she realizes the valet is pulling her car around. She gets in without another word, tearing off down Margaery’s stupidly long driveway and barely clearing the gate. 

She’s so angry and distracted the whole drive home that she pushes ninety without even realizing it. She stops paying attention to the road, eyes blurred with tears and ears filled with the pounding of her own blood. Unfortunately, this means she doesn’t see the car in front of her stop until it’s too late. Even slamming on brakes isn’t enough, and she hits the other car hard.

She’s okay, she’s stunned to realize a long moment later. Shaken and scared, but unhurt. She gets out of the car, trembling, barely hearing the other driver shout and swear at her.

_ Great, _ she thinks.  _ Perfect end to a perfect day. _

.

The other driver is rightfully furious. They call the police and get everything squared away with insurance. Really it’s Jeyne who suffers the brunt of the damage; the other car is banged up, sure, but her car is no longer drivable. Knowing her father hates driving this far out, and also wanting to delay the inevitable, she looks through her recent texts to see who could give her a ride. She doesn’t have friends anymore, is the problem. 

Her thumb hovers over one name.  _ Harry. _ She takes a deep breath and composes a new text. 

The other driver scoots off, the tow truck comes for her car. Harry hasn’t responded yet, and getting anxious, Jeyne texts the only person she  _ thinks _ might help her.

Theon.

His gruff response,  _ Be there in 20, _ fills her with elation, relief, and terror all at the same time. She assures the cop that she’ll be fine, but he still waits around until Theon’s car pulls up.

“This your friend?” the cop asks.

She nods. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Theon gets out of the car, his face unreadable. “You alright?”

The cop answers for her. “She’ll probably feel it in the morning. Make sure she takes some Aspirin before she goes to bed.”

Jeyne flushes at the idea of Theon being there when she goes to bed. 

“I will,” he says blankly. 

The cop drives off, but Jeyne isn’t ready to go just yet.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. “For coming out here.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t leave you stranded on the highway.” He almost gets in the car and then hesitates. “Can I just...ask you one thing?”

Her stomach turns. “Yeah. Of course.”

He stares at his car, pressing his knuckles so hard into the hood that she’s sure he’s going to dent it. “Why...didn’t you stay?”

She stares at him. “What do you mean?”

He takes a deep breath. “I asked you to stay and you didn’t, and I just...I don’t know. I thought we were having a good time. I thought you liked...me.”

Maybe it’s just the events of the last few hours, but she can’t wrap her head around what he’s saying. “You didn’t...you didn’t ask me to stay.”

He looks at her, pained. “Yeah, I did. I wrote a note and left it on the bedside table.”

Oh gods.  _ Gods. _ She’s a fucking idiot. “I didn’t see a note.”

He digs his knuckles into his forehead. “I left a note. I thought about texting you but then I didn’t want your phone to wake you up.”

She feels like crying again. “I didn’t see the note.” She takes a deep breath. “But if I’d seen it I--”

A sporty car screams up to them.

“Hey, fuck-buddy,” Harry booms out the window, lowering a stylish pair of shades. 

He could not have  _ worse _ timing. 

“You called him?” Theon asks, annoyed. 

She winces. “Well, yes, because I thought you were mad at me, but then he didn’t respond, so…”

Theon’s face hardens. “So I was your second choice?”

She winces again. “Theon, I--”

“Let’s go,” Harry says, giving the horn a small bleep. 

She looks between the two men, one of whom is watching her expectantly, the other of whom looks hurt and angry. Hating herself, she gets into Harry’s car. 

He tears off so quickly she doesn’t even get a chance to look back at Theon. She just clings to her seat, watching the countryside zoom past her. 

“Thanks,” she says after a long moment.

“Yeah, no problem.” He flashes her a grin. “You can make it up to me later.”

Her stomach twists. “Right.” She does manage to look behind the car, but Theon and his car are long gone. 

“Hey, cheer up!”

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve had a really bad day.”

“Well, you know what might make you feel better…”

Irritation overcomes her misgivings. “Can you stop talking about sex for like a  _ minute? _ ”

Harry is taken aback by the sudden hostility. “Well...what else am I supposed to talk about?”

“ _ Literally _ anything else! Gods! I just had a  _ car accident _ and all you can think about is getting off?! You’re such an immature prick!”

Harry pouts. “I didn’t have to come help you, you know.”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to wish you hadn’t!”

“Well fine, walk home then!

“Fine, I will!” She yanks at the car door; Harry yanks the steering wheel to the side, pulling over so she can get out without dying. 

“Jeyne, don’t be stupid!”

“Too late!” she snaps, walking in the direction of home.

“Fine! You’re no longer my number three!” He drives away, abandoning her on the roadside.

She’s absolutely out of options now. No Harry, no Theon,  _ definitely _ no Sansa.

Taking a deep breath, she reaches for her phone and dials her dad.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

She tries to keep her voice steady. “I need you to come pick me up.”

“Pick you up? Is everything okay?”

She can’t help it; her voice breaks. “No. It’s really not.”


	7. Chapter 7

Jeyne sleeps a lot over the next few days. It’s like she hit a wall, and now all she can do is sleep off the last few...what? Weeks? Months? Years? Maybe she’s earned it. Maybe she just needs to recharge before going back out there. 

The days and nights melt together, and then suddenly it’s the night before the wedding. Jeyne leaves her phone in her room, unconcerned with her battery life or notifications. She knows all of them are just going to be reminders of Sansa and the wedding she’s not going to. 

Vayon goes to bed at his usual nine pm, and Jeyne putters around for only a little bit longer, watching  _ The Great Westerosi Baking Show _ while cleaning the kitchen. She’s debating whether or not to go to bed when the doorbell rings. She freezes, because it’s almost eleven pm, and nothing good comes this late at night. Is it a robber? A serial killer? Should she answer the door or call the police? But her phone is upstairs. What is she going to do?

Grabbing a kitchen knife, she moves carefully to the door, gripping the handle and sticking to the shadows. The doorbell rings again; Jeyne peers out the window and sees a cascade of familiar red hair. 

She unbolts the door at once. “ _ Sansa _ ?!”

The other woman looks at her with red eyes. “Can I come in?” she sniffles.

“Yeah, of course,” Jeyne says, bemused. She steps back, allowing Sansa into the foyer. 

“Why do you have a kitchen knife?”

“Why are you ringing my bell at eleven pm? What are you even doing here, Sansa?”

Sansa wipes her nose. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

Jeyne stares at her. “A bit? Sansa...your wedding is tomorrow.”

Sansa bursts into a fresh wave of tears. “I’m scared!” she wails. 

“Is everything alright?” Vayon calls from his room.

“Fine, Dad!” Jeyne calls back, steering Sansa into the kitchen. She turns to her friend. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Sansa wrings her hands. “I don’t know, I just started panicking. I just feel like...maybe I’m not ready.”

“You’re not ready to get married?”

“Maybe. I mean Daenerys is...she’s perfect, obviously. And she makes me so happy.” Sansa bites her lip. “But this wedding is going to be  _ huge _ . And it’s all gotten so out of control with Margaery running things…”

Jeyne can’t even contain her scoff, but Sansa doesn’t look annoyed. If anything, she looks guilty.

“You were right about her. I mean, not all of it, but…” Sansa takes a deep, steadying breath. “I’ve...changed, since I started hanging out with her. She makes me feel...I don’t know. Younger.”

“You’re twenty seven.”

“But I never feel like it. I grew up earlier than I should’ve had to, between modeling and dating a celebrity. That stuff ages you. And then I got into the designing side of things and...I don’t know. And you were having such a hard time and I was trying to be there for you, and Margaery came along and made it easier to like, forget everything and just be a person.”

Jeyne returns the knife to its place. “So I was a burden.”

“No! I’m not saying that at all! I’m just saying…” Sansa winces. “I’m just saying that I feel like I got so caught up on other people that I forgot to take time for myself. And Margaery helped me realize that it’s okay to put myself first sometimes.”

Jeyne doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what she would say. 

“I never meant to push you away,” Sansa continues. “I guess I just never realized how much you relied on me.”

“I didn’t  _ rely _ on you.”

“You did,” Sansa says gently. “And that’s okay. You were in a shitty time of your life, it’s okay to lean on people.”

Jeyne folds her arms over her chest. “But you...kicked me out of your life.”

“I know,” Sansa says quietly, looking down. “And I’m sorry. I really am. I just...I felt like I couldn’t be happy while you were unhappy. And I know you’re tired of hearing her name, but Margaery really made me feel like I deserved to have good things.”

“I didn’t fuck up that badly,” Jeyne mumbles, eyes also downcast. “I got everyone sick and I did something stupid while I was high, but I didn’t...I didn’t deserve to get kicked out of your bridal party.”

“You didn’t,” Sansa agrees, surprising her. “I just felt everything slipping out of control and I made a stupid decision. And yes, it was Margaery who encouraged me.”

“Why do you like her?” Jeyne asks softly. “She’s horrible.”

“She’s not, really. Or at least, not to me. She’s...protective. You have to understand...when she first got to know me, you were in such a bad place and I spent so much time talking about you. I think she felt that...I don’t know, we had an unhealthy dependence on each other.”

“Is that what you think?”

“No,” Sansa says firmly. “I’m just explaining why Margaery might be...less than friendly to you.”

Jeyne doesn’t know what to say to that. She clears her throat. “Okay. So...what’s going on? What do you want from me?”

“I just want my friend back.”

Jeyne hesitates. It would be so satisfying to tell Sansa they’re not friends anymore, to tell her to fuck off, to leave her as hurt and abandoned as Sansa did to her.

But Sansa’s here now, isn’t she? And isn’t that what Jeyne has wanted this whole time? To have her friend back?

She wraps her arms around Sansa. “Well, I’m here.”

.

They stay up late, baking cakes and brownies and cookies and eating the batter while they catch up. It feels good to tell Sansa everything that’s been happening, and she thinks it must feel good for Sansa to tell her everything. The wedding has been more stressful than maybe Jeyne realized, between Sansa’s job and everything else she has on her plate.

“It’s been really hard without you,” Sansa tells her. 

“It’s been really hard without you, too.”

“Let’s not do it again.” Sansa looks around and suddenly grabs up one of the kitchen knives. “Let’s make a pact.”

“What?!”

“A pact,” Sansa says firmly. “So that we’ll never distance ourselves from each other again.”

“Isn’t that, like, marriage?”

“I guess. So?” She brandishes the knife. “Let’s cut our palms and mingle the blood.”

“That’s  _ insanely _ unsanitary. Also, what if we fall apart anyway? What if I become, like, a child murderer?”

“You’re not going to become a child murderer.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Jeyne!” Sansa shouts, laughing. “Just do it.”

Jeyne hesitates, and then extends her palm. Sansa makes a neat line, blood welling up along it, and then makes a cut on her own palm. They clasp hands, squealing in disgust when they feel the blood squishing.

Still, Jeyne can’t help smiling at the cut on her hand when she washes off the blood later. She’ll have the scar for years to come, maybe even forever--which is, she hopes, as long as she’ll have Sansa.

Late that night, they climb into Jeyne’s bed and fall asleep beside each other, just like old times. Jeyne’s last coherent thought is,  _ I’m so glad I have her back. _

.

Jeyne wakes up to her father gently shaking her.

“Mmrm?” 

“Sweetheart, there’s a woman downstairs for you,” he says softly, trying not to wake a still-sleeping Sansa.

Jeyne frowns, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “A woman?”

“She’s one of Sansa’s bridesmaids.”

Vayon knows most of the bridesmaids, which means it can only be one person.

Margaery.

Jeyne sits up, pushing back the comforter. “I’ll handle this.”

She brushes her teeth and runs her fingers through her hair; she’s looked better, but then, she’s also looked worse, and right now, she doesn’t particularly care what Margaery thinks. 

She heads downstairs, finding Margaery sitting in the living room, staring with wide eyes at the singing bass on Vayon’s wall. For once, Jeyne can understand Margaery’s horror, for the singing bass is truly a cursed object. 

Margaery doesn’t even bother with a pretend smile; she stands up, gripping her purse. “Jeyne, I’m so worried. Sansa disappeared last night, no one’s seen or heard from her since the rehearsal dinner.”

So she doesn’t know Sansa’s here. Jeyne decides to use that to her advantage. She folds her arms over her chest, giving Margaery a blank stare. “Sounds like a problem.”

Margaery looks panicked. “I don’t know what to do. She won’t answer her calls or texts, she’s turned off her location--”

“Sounds like she doesn’t want to be found.”

“But she has to be!” Margaery insists. “It’s her  _ wedding _ day!”

“What do you want from me?” Jeyne snaps. “You made sure she never had anything to do with me after the bachelorette party. Was losing my bakery and my boyfriend and now my job and my apartment not enough for you? You had to take my best friend, too?”

Margaery winces. “I didn’t... _ mean _ to take her away from you, I just...I felt like you spent...too  _ much _ time together.”

“As opposed to what you two were doing?”

Margaery sits slowly. “That’s fair. It’s just...every time Sansa brought you up, there was some...drama. I could tell how much fun she was having...well, without you. I felt like you were draining her.”

Jeyne hesitates. “Maybe...I was,” she admits, sitting in the chair opposite Margaery. 

The other woman’s eyebrows raise.

“I never wanted to,” Jeyne adds. “And I knew I was being...a lot. I just didn’t have anyone else to turn to.”

“I know that now,” Margaery says softly. “Sansa...laid into me after the shower.”

_ That _ surprises Jeyne. “Really?”

“Yeah. She...well, I don’t say this lightly, but she flipped out on me, told me you were the best friend she’d ever had and I’d driven you away and she was a horrible friend to treat you that way.” Margaery shrugs. “She apologized later and said she was just stressed, but you know, I could tell she meant it. And I tried to tell myself that it was better this way, but I could see...she really did miss you, and I really had been unfair to you.” She takes a deep breath. “I know you have absolutely no reason to help me, or Sansa right now. We were both terrible to you, and I’m...I’m sorry. If I’d known how much pain I was causing, I wouldn’t have been so awful to you.”

Jeyne considers this. “I...really appreciate that. Thank you, Margaery.” 

Margaery looks at her, and Jeyne realizes there are tears in the other woman’s eyes. “I just care about Sansa so much, you know? I have friends, but they’re all so...vapid. Sansa’s not like them. She has actual thoughts and opinions and doesn’t just say or do whatever makes her look good. I just really,  _ really _ wanted her to like me, because it made me feel like my thoughts and opinions mattered.” She wipes her eyes as more tears fall.

Jeyne can’t help it, she smiles.

“Why are you smiling?!” Margaery exclaims.

“I’m sorry, this is just...this is the first time I’ve ever seen you look ugly. It makes me kinda happy.”

Margaery lets out a gasp. “I look ugly?!” Then she laughs, wiping away her tears. “No I don’t, I don’t look ugly.”

“You’re an ugly crier, but that’s okay.”

“No, I’m not really an ugly crier,” Margaery insists.

Jeyne hesitates. “Wait here a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Margaery nods, reaching for the box of tissues while Jeyne gets out of her chair and heads upstairs.

Sansa is still asleep, and Jeyne almost feels bad about waking her up.

Almost.

“Margaery is here,” she says when Sansa opens her eyes.

Sansa frowns. “Dammit.”

Jeyne sits on the side of the bed. “You’re right, she’s actually not a terrible person.”

Sansa stares at her. “Am I still dreaming, or…?”

Jeyne takes a deep breath. “Look...if you want to call off the wedding or whatever, that’s completely fine and you know I’ll support you...I just need to know what to do. As nice as it would be to continue the sleepover, you  _ are _ scheduled for a big wedding today, and we can’t just ignore that and hope it’ll go away.”

Sansa bites her lip. “Well...I  _ do _ want to get married to Dany, I just...need to take it down a few notches.”

“How many notches we talking?”

“It’s at a twelve now; I need an eight or a nine.”

“That’s a lot of notches,” Jeyne says. “But I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Sansa sits up. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

Jeyne hesitates. “Well…I don’t even have a dress.”

“You do. I made yours...just in case,” Sansa admits. 

Jeyne bites her lip. “Won’t Margaery be upset?”

“She’s a big girl, she can handle it.” Sansa reaches for her hand, her scar from last night still raw and visible. “I need you, Jeyne. Getting married won’t be the same without you there.”

“What if I fuck it up?” Jeyne asks quietly. 

“You won’t. We’ve literally been planning this since we were little girls. You could not possibly fuck it up. And even if you did, so what? At least you’ll be there.”

Jeyne looks away, wiping her eyes. “Okay.”

Sansa lets out a small squeal.

“But you’re telling Margaery, who’s downstairs staring at the singing bass.”

“I hate that bass. But fine.” Sansa gets out of bed. “I’ll get it sorted.”

Jeyne takes a shower while Sansa talks to Margaery. She doesn’t know what transpires between the two women, only that when she comes out of the shower, Sansa announces that they’re taking a Lyft to the hotel, where the rest of the bridal party will be waiting with the hair and makeup team. 

“I’ll bring the desserts,” Vayon offers when Jeyne frets about there not being enough room in the car. “Just write down the instructions.”

Jeyne does, and then adds a little something extra at the bottom of the list.

Just in case.

.

They bridal party is indeed waiting for them at the hotel, in one of the two adjoined rooms Sansa is renting. The other room is for her hair and makeup team, who spend all afternoon primping and prepping her. 

The other women regard Jeyne curiously, but no one says anything, so Jeyne is pretty sure that Sansa texted them all beforehand. Anyway, there isn’t much time for chatting; the photographer shows up to get pictures of them getting ready, and the other women seize the opportunity to show off for the camera. 

Jeyne moves from one room to the next, making sure Sansa is fed, hydrated, comfortable, calm, and happy, and that the bridesmaids are doing okay. She pauses for the occasional picture, both with the photographer and with the bridesmaids, who are blowing up their socials with the #daensawedding tag, but doesn’t actually enjoy herself until Sansa’s assistant brings her her dress.

When Jeyne puts it on, she gasps.

All of the dresses are baby blue, which Jeyne had already known; each bridesmaid has a different neckline, slits and ruffles in different places to give them their own distinctive style. 

Jeyne’s dress is beautiful. The sheer illusion neckline matches Sansa’s, with leaves and flowers embroidered around the neck and bust. The skirt is long and flowing, and best of all, it has…

“POCKETS?!” Jeyne shouts, immediately jamming her hands into the secret pockets.

Sansa finger-guns. “I got you, bitch.”

Jeyne finger-guns back. “Now it’s your turn, bitch.”

Sansa gets out of her chair, undoing her robe and raising up her arms as her team pulls the dress over her head. Her stylist makes quick work of the buttons in the back, and then Sansa is turning, looking nervously at Jeyne. 

“Well?”

“Sansa,” Jeyne says in awe, “you look... _ perfect. _ ”

“Yeah?” Sansa asks nervously.

Jeyne nods. “Yeah. Like...everything we ever talked about when we were planning our weddings. I mean you look like you’re a princess. I would be weeping right now if I wasn’t so afraid of ruining this makeup.”

Sansa looks as if she might cry, too, but she blissfully blinks it back. “Thank you.” She holds Jeyne’s hand as she steps in her heels and bends down to let her stylist pin the veil into her bun. Ready at last, she walks into the adjoining room.

The bridal party shrieks, hopping up and down as they see the bride. Sansa turns this way and that, beaming as her friends shower her with compliments.

Jeyne glances at her phone and sees the time. Taking a deep breath, she reaches out to grip Sansa’s hand. “It’s almost time. You ready?”

Sansa’s eyes sparkle. “I am.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, some VERY stupid stuff happens in this chapter--it's probably not a surprise but it is stupid, and it was really fun to write, so I hope it's fun to read.

The wedding is exactly as extravagant as Jeyne suspected and feared. There’s a light show, and live doves, and a few others things she tactfully asks the wedding coordinator to leave out. The coordinator actually looks relieved as she taps furiously at her tablet, making last-minute arrangements. If Margaery is offended, she doesn’t say anything. 

When Sansa and Daenerys walk down the aisles, meeting at the altar, a live singer accompanied by guitar sings, “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, to many a misty eye. Everyone watches as they swear to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, so long as they both shall live. Sansa has to ask Jeyne for a tissue halfway through; Jeyne immediately pulls a wad of tissues out of her pocket, making the guests laugh. She hands them around to the rest of the wedding party, everyone dabbing their eyes as they watch Sansa and Daenerys recite their vows. 

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant says, and the room thunders with applause. 

.

After the guests have been shooed into the reception hall, the two brides, their parties, and their families pose for pictures. Theon is there, determinedly avoiding Jeyne, but that’s alright; she has more important things to worry about right now.

The reception is being held in the ballroom, where a DJ is playing some light dancing music; everyone applauds when the bridal parties enter, raising flutes of champagne in celebration.

Margaery suddenly grabs Jeyne’s arm. “I forgot to tell you about the surprise.”

Jeyne furrows her brow. “The surprise?”

It is at that moment that the DJ announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, here for one night only--Britney Spears!”

And the queen herself walks out onto the stage. 

Sansa loses it. Like, balls her hands into fists, opens her mouth, and  _ shrieks. _

Not that Jeyne has any room to be judging, because she is also  _ shrieking _ at the top of her lungs, along with a solid handful of girls and gays in the room. 

Britney smiles into the mic. “Congratulations, Sansa and Daenerys. This one’s for you.” 

As the opening notes of “Oops!...I Did It Again” begin playing, Jeyne and Sansa turn to each other, shrieking with the furious energy of little girls hearing their childhood idol singing live. 

Technically the first dance is supposed to be for the married couple, but everyone is so excited that they all get up to start dancing. Neither of the brides seem to mind, too busy dancing and singing along to the song. 

“You know what, Margaery, you’re alright,” Jeyne shouts over the music.

Margaery beams.

.

Everyone has a good time at the reception. The music is good, the company is good, the open bar is  _ great. _

Not that Jeyne would know firsthand; she spends the reception running around making sure Sansa is having a good time, her glass of water and flute of champagne always full, her makeup never smudging, always looking camera-ready for both the photographer and the smartphones guests keep holding up. She even accompanies Sansa to the bathroom, where she holds up her dress whenever the other woman has to take a leak.

“Are you having a good time?” Jeyne asks during one of these trips.

Sansa beams. “The best. Thank you for maid-of-honoring.”

“I’m maid-of-honored,” Jeyne jokes. 

Sansa’s eyes soften. “And thank you for being nice to Margaery.”

“Hey, she booked Britney Spears; I’ll lick her arsehole if she asks me.”

“Jeyne, for  _ fuck’s  _ sake.”

“But seriously,” Jeyne continues, handing Sansa some toilet paper, “she’s not that bad. I think we just...met under the wrong circumstances.”

Sansa looks relieved--though maybe that’s just because she can reach her own crotch this time and doesn’t need Jeyne’s help. “I knew you two would get along if you tried.”

“I mean, don’t expect me to go on a girls’ trip to Yi Ti with her or anything, but she’s not bad. I could tolerate brunch with her.”

Sansa beams. “That would be great. She stands up, letting Jeyne shake out the dress and flush the toilet. “I love this dress…”

“But you want to get the fuck out of it?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

.

Jeyne arranges a seamless exit for Sansa and Daenerys, making sure all their things are packed and loaded into the limo so all they have to do is sneak out of the ballroom and run across the lobby to escape. She knows that there’s no way they’d get out to the limo otherwise; everyone will want to swarm them and say goodbye.

It ends up being just Jeyne and Arya helping them into the limo, holding up their enormous skirts so the two women can slide inside. From here, the limo will take them to Daenerys’s private jet. 

“Thank you for everything,” Daenerys says to Jeyne with sincere gratitude. 

“Oh, Britney was all Margaery,” Jeyne jokes, but Daenerys shakes her head.

“Thanks for...taking care of Sansa last night,” she says, smiling at her new bride.

Jeyne smiles too. “It was my pleasure. You guys have fun, okay?” She closes the door, waving as the driver pulls away.

Beside her, Arya is laughing so hard she’s crying. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Arya wipes her eyes. “I put a loaded gun in Sansa’s luggage,” she explains, tears streaming from her eyes. “Customs is gonna rip her ass apart.”

Jeyne stares at her as she walks away, wheezing.

Margaery slips up into Arya’s place, a nervous smile on her face. “Did you have a nice time?”

“It was wonderful,” Jeyne says, but in truth, she’s been so busy maid-of-honoring that she hasn’t even stopped to have fun. 

“What did you think of the wedding?” Margaery presses, eyes widening to an almost manic degree.

“It was great,” Jeyne assures her.

“It was great, right?” 

“Yeah, it was perfect. Britney was a good touch.”

“I know, right?” Margaery looks relieved, as if she had been wanting Jeyne’s approval. Jeyne decides to file that away for later. “It was...really wonderful meeting you.”

“It was really wonderful meeting you, too,” Jeyne echoes, and, seeing that there’s still a touch of desperation on Margaery’s face, adds, “Hey, you know, maybe...the three of us can get brunch or something soon.”

Margaery looks as if she got her own version of a Britney Spears surprise appearance. “Thank you, Jeyne, I...I would love that.” She reaches out, hugging Jeyne. When she pulls back, there’s a smile on her face as she looks at something behind Jeyne. “I’ll see you later.”

When Jeyne turns, she sees Theon standing there, hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face. She waits until Margaery’s well out of earshot to come up to him, clearing her throat.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I, erm, got your cupcake.”

She tries not to smile too broadly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Chocolate on chocolate. Nice touch.”

“Well, I know how much you like it.”

“Bit awkward coming from your dad, though.”

She winces. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t...I thought maybe you were too mad to talk to me.”

“I was pretty mad,” he admits. “But mostly at myself. I fucked up.”

She shakes her head earnestly. “No, you didn’t, I’m the one who fucked up--”

But he’s shaking his head back at her. “No, I...I can see how it looked, I mean, waking up and I’m not there and you didn’t see the note...I get it.”

“I still shouldn’t have gone with Harry,” she says quietly.

He shakes his head again. “I get it, though, I...I wouldn’t have wanted to get in a car with me, either. And I never tried to fix it,” he adds ruefully. “I just assumed...you chose him anyway.”

“I made an impulsive decision that I immediately regretted.”

Theon looks hopeful. “So you’re not...with him?”

She laughs. “Definitely not. I got out of the car less than five minutes after he picked me up and waited two hours for my dad, and it was still preferable to spending another second with him. Haven’t talked to him since.”

Theon looks ecstatic. “Oh. Well...good.”

His reaction emboldens her to ask, “So if I said I really liked being with you and I want to do it again...that would be okay?”

He huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Jeyne...I’ve been... _ ridiculously _ into you for a really long time.”

Her heart leaps. “Really?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “You really haven’t noticed?”

“I am admittedly a bit thick.”

“Do you not remember...when we were having sex…” His face is red. “I said...I’d been waiting a long time for this?”

She doesn’t just feel a bit thick now, she feels  _ incredibly _ thick. “Yeah, but...guys say stuff.”

He closes his eyes. “Guys like Harry and Ramsay, maybe, but I’m not like them.” He opens his eyes. “I meant what I said then, and I mean it now when I say that I am ridiculously into you, and I want to be with you.”

She practically melts. “Do you want to...get out of here?”

“Yes,” he says at once. “Unless you’d rather stay--”

“No,” she says quickly. “No, I’m...so over this wedding. Let’s get out of here.”

Grinning, he takes her hand and leads her out to his car. It’s probably not very good maid of honor behavior, abandoning the reception before it’s even over, but Jeyne thinks she’s earned it. 

And if Theon decides to spend thirty minutes going down on her again tonight, well, she thinks she’s earned that too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /cue "I'm a hungry bear" credits scene.
> 
> Thank you guys for reading this fic - I honestly didn't think anyone would! Your comments have put such a smile on my face <3 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](jeynepoole.tumblr.com)!


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